


enough for today

by addandsubtract



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Minor Violence, Polyamory Negotiations, Questions of Personhood, Relationship Negotiation, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 20:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21277634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addandsubtract/pseuds/addandsubtract
Summary: He knew the time he spent with Shiro would end when Keith got back. He just didn’t think he’d be the only one who remembered it.





	enough for today

**Author's Note:**

> i started writing this after season 6 aired, but prior to seasons 7 and 8, so while there is technically nothing keeping the story from unfolding on earth the way that it does in the show, the space road trip is very different. call this an alternate season 7, at the very least. obviously it took longer to complete than expected.
> 
> thanks to molly for reading this over for me and also listening to me yell about it for over a year. mvp, tbh.

Shiro’s alive. 

There’s a part of Lance that thinks they should all be warier — this isn’t the first or second time Shiro has reappeared, and last time he was an imposter — but they trust Allura. She found his consciousness inside the Black Lion, and channeled him into the empty husk Keith brought back, and so they believe it. They believe Allura.

Lance watches the real Shiro shudder and breathe inside the clone’s body, and he can’t help thinking that Keith would probably have known the difference if he’d been around Shiro more, that he’d have been able to tell something was wrong if he hadn’t been off drifting through spacetime on the back of a giant space whale. And — Lance knew something was wrong, fine, but he’d thought PTSD-induced migraines, not imposter clone.

He’d thought he was helping.

It doesn’t matter, because Shiro’s back, and Keith is here with him, and that’s always how it was supposed to be. They’re like two orbiting suns, no matter how they move, they’re always drawn to each other. Lance can’t be bitter about that. It’s the natural order of things.

They all dry their tears, climb into their lions with everything they can carry, seal up the rifts in the universe with the Castle of Lions, and then they’re homeless, and headed home.

It’s a long journey. They don’t have the teledav, there’s no blink-and-you’re-there, there’s just endless space, and stars, and planets. They’re all cramped, and even worse, when they’re flying they’re all kept separate until they land somewhere. Most of them anyway — Keith and Shiro are sharing the black lion, Romelle is in Blue with Allura, and Hunk has Coran. Comms are fine, but Lance is social by nature, and Kaltenecker is still just a cow. The truth is that before, he would have sought out Shiro to talk to or — well. It doesn’t matter anymore, really, because the Shiro he would have talked to doesn’t exist, and never did. Not really.

It’s stupid to miss something that wasn’t really real. It’s stupid to mourn someone who didn’t really die.

“You’re quiet,” Hunk says. His voice is quiet, too, like he’s trying not to startle Lance. They’re sitting by the fire, grounded for the night on an uninhabited beach on an uninhabited continent on an uninhabited planet. The stars above are unfamiliar. Lance is watching Keith and Shiro crouch by the edge of the water, where they’re supposed to be testing for toxins but are instead leaning into each other and laughing.

He pulls his gaze away, looks at Hunk. Hunk’s eyebrows are furrowed, and Lance smiles. It’s not a fake smile. “Just taking in the scenery,” Lance says. “Very romantic.”

Hunk’s mouth quirks. He’s willing to accept that for now. He waggles his eyebrows. “The beach? Or Keith and Shiro?”

Lance laughs. “I don’t know, both? They’re having a good time aren’t they?”

Hunk looks out at them, and Keith pushes Shiro over, jumping back a step when Shiro reaches for his ankle. Lance can see their grins in the flickering firelight. “They deserve it, don’t they? After everything.”

“Yeah,” Lance says. “They do.” It’s part of why he’s not going to say anything. He knew the time he spent with Shiro would end when Keith got back. He just didn’t think he’d be the only one who remembered it.

“We talking about the lovebirds?” Pidge asks, flopping down next to Hunk. She’s been tweaking Green’s long-ranged sensors in an effort to get them a faster route back to Earth but she seems to have given up for the night. “It’s weird to see Keith smiling this much.”

“It’s weird to see Keith,” Lance says, and they both laugh at him. He doesn’t mind. It’s good to know he can still do that.

The Shiro thing happened accidentally. They’d all worried when Shiro started to get headaches, blurry vision, but Lance was piloting Red, he was Black’s right hand, and Keith wasn’t here to do it, so Lance stepped up.

He thought of it that way, “stepping up,” ignoring how Shiro was one of his heroes at the Garrison, how Lance had always wanted to be exactly like him. Not that Lance could — he doesn’t have Shiro’s innate leadership skills, among other things — but Lance had spent time daydreaming about it. Shiro pulling him aside the way he had Keith and telling him he was doing a good job. The things he’d wanted then were so simple.

He goaded Shiro into helping him train, both because Shiro is actually much better in close combat than he is, and because the exercise seemed to help. After, when they were both lying on the floor, completely tuckered out, Shiro had looked at him and smiled. He’d said, “Hey, thanks, Lance. I know you were doing this to help me.”

Lance had opened his mouth to deny it, but Shiro had quirked an eyebrow at him, skeptical, so instead he said, “Did it? Help?”

Shiro had looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes, smiling. Lance had gotten stuck looking at the column of his bared throat. “It did, actually. I feel more here than I have in a while, I guess.”

“Cool,” Lance had said, feeling himself flush, and looked away. “I’m glad. Just, you know, doing what I can.”

They take turns keeping watch on the wilder planets, which is always a good opportunity for Lance to pretend he doesn’t hear anything coming from the tent Keith and Shiro are sharing. Sometimes they’ll get into skirmishes with the Galra over inhabited planets, which often means a real bed, or something approximating that. Sometimes Lance gets his own room, which he’s managed to get used to, even after sharing with Veronica at home, and then Hunk at the Garrison.

He hasn’t been quite so lucky on this planet — he’s bunking down with Hunk, Shiro and Keith, since Pidge claimed the Alteans first. The rooms have huge vaulted ceilings, the beds floating slowly through the air like cloud islands, huge and soft and fluffy. The Vildair need the air moving on their skin at all times, so the hovering beds are a must for them, and the Paladins have made it a rule not to turn down hospitality unless it’s deadly. Lance feels like he’s drifting on the ocean, but he’s too restless to sleep. The edges of the bed are supposed to expand and keep them from falling, but Lance doesn’t want to test that too much, so instead he just stares at the stars visible through the transparent ceiling, the clouds that have gathered, wispy, in the tallest corners.

He realizes he’s not the only one awake when he hears Keith make a surprised squawking noise, and followed by Shiro’s half-hearted and amused shushing. Lance wonders if Keith is ticklish, or if he thought Shiro was sleeping. There’s some shifting, quiet, and then louder as Lance realizes his bed is drifting closer to theirs. He imagines saying something, asking them to pipe down, and it seems like what they’d expect him to do, but he can’t manage it.

He shouldn’t be listening. He’s really not trying to, and he can’t hear much of anything anyway: just moving cloth, whispered breath. When Keith gasps, Lance grips the comforter too tight and then pulls it over his head. Let them think what they want.

He doesn’t sleep after that, but it’s not Keith and Shiro keeping him up.

When Keith offers to go on a mission with Lance — into the jungle to look for food, no less — Lance knows something is up. Hunk, who doesn’t have a poker face to speak of, turns to Keith with complete shock on his face. Romelle isn’t doing much better — it’s funny how easily she’d picked up on their dynamics.

“What?” Keith says. “It’s just an offer, in case Lance needs help.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m shocked. It’s _Lance_.” Hunk glances at Lance, who shrugs.

“I mean, if Mr. Teleporting Space Wolf wants to help me haul space bananas or whatever back to camp, I say let him,” Lance says.

Shiro looks like he’s going to speak up, protest, but then he pauses. What he eventually says is, “Be cautious, both of you. All the data we have on this planet is 10,000 years old.”

“Sure thing,” Lance says, because it doesn’t look like Keith is going to do anything except fondly roll his eyes.

They trek into the forest, Lance using his bayard, transformed into the Altean broadsword, to hack at the foliage, while Keith follows closely behind. They know there’s a large lake a mile or so into the jungle, and hopefully more fruit-bearing plants or dumb but edible space fish for them to catch.

Eventually, Lance is sweaty, sore, and tired enough to just ask. Jungle plants are tough.

“So, Keith, out with it,” he says, which is maybe less than laid back.

“What,” Keith says, flat. He’s been keeping an eye out for anything aggressive, but nothing has shown up yet. Lance is pretty close to asking him to switch places, but this way he doesn’t have to look at Keith’s face.

“I don’t know, man, you don’t just offer to do stuff with me. So what’s up?”

“Hey,” Keith says, like he’s planning on denying it, but he doesn’t. Maybe he can’t come up with any supporting evidence. “I just want to talk to you.”

“You’re not doing a great job so far,” Lance says.

Keith lets out a sigh that’s almost a growl. “Shiro isn’t going to mention it, for some reason, but I’m going to.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Why are you avoiding him?” The question is enough of a bombshell that Lance momentarily pauses, sword raised. “Are you freaked out that he died? Or that he’s in a clone body now?”

Lance sighs, and turns around to look at Keith. His face is red, already annoyed on Shiro’s behalf. Lance shrugs, putting on a wide smile. “I’m just trying to give you guys a little space, dude,” he says, waggling his eyebrows so Keith can’t misinterpret what he’s talking about. Keith’s face drops from annoyed into surprised, and then wrestles its way into embarrassed. Despite everything, it’s cute.

“Uh,” Keith says. He looks a little like someone slapped him with a fish.

“I just thought, you know, you guys deserve the privacy? Didn’t mean to upset him. I’ll apologize.” He claps Keith on the shoulder, excruciatingly friendly, and turns back around. Truthfully he hadn’t thought Shiro would notice, since they didn’t spend much time one-on-one until after Shiro died and was replaced with a clone. The idea of forcing himself to talk to Shiro normally kind of sucks, but he’s good at muddling through. He’s an experienced pretender.

“Oh, um. Cool,” Keith says. And then, after a pause, “Thanks.”

“No sweat,” Lance says. “Let’s just find something tasty for Hunk to cook, okay? It’ll be a good treat for everyone.”

They only get minors scrapes gathering the spiny, tough-skinned fruit from the trees that tilt out of the water, and Keith even manages to catch a couple of huge eel-looking things that make Coran exclaim, “Oh! Muldoks! I was certain they’d gone extinct!” when they get back to camp.

They’re both soaked, but it wasn’t a terrible excursion. Lance changes into a fresh flight suit, climbing down from Red with it still folded down like he’d do with a wetsuit when he was finished surfing. It’s warm, and his skin is still sticky and damp. While Hunk is cooking, Lance sits next to Shiro on the ground.

“Keith talked to me,” he says.

Shiro groans. When Lance glances at him, he’s blushing slightly, smiling — he’s looking at Keith, where he’s helping Hunk slice open the dangerous fruit. “I knew he was going to.”

“I mean, he’s Keith,” Lance says. “What did you expect?”

“Yeah,” Shiro says. When he meets Lance’s eyes, his expression is serious again. “I’m sorry, I hope it wasn’t too awkward.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Lance says. “I just thought you guys would want, y’know. Alone time.” He waves his hand in a vague gesture that for some reason makes Shiro laugh.

“That’s nice of you but, uh. I’d just like everything to go back to normal, I guess. No extra space needed.”

“Good to know,” Lance says. The silence isn’t awkward, but it does make Lance think about all that time they — he and fake Shiro, anyway — spent on the Castle of Lions sitting next to each other and idly joking, or sharing anecdotes from the Garrison and their lives before that. It strikes Lance that he probably knows way more about Shiro now than Shiro knows about him. Assuming the clone had real memories.

“You know you can always talk to me, if there’s anything bothering you,” Shiro says, in typical leader-y fashion. Lance watches Pidge sit next to Allura, watches Allura laugh at something she says. Hunk has fashioned a grill out of excess lion parts, and he’s getting some authentic marks on the sides of the muldoks. They smell good. Lance hopes they taste good.

“Got it,” Lance says. “Just thinking about my family. I hope they’re not too worried about me. I’m excited to see them.”

“I hope my brother knows I’m alive,” Shiro says. “He was pretty angry when I joined the Garrison.”

“I’m sure Pidge’s dad found him,” Lance says. “Though, um. I guess I don’t know if Sh— if the clone would have asked him to.”

“Sometimes I think I remember being him. The clone. Or — not being him, sometimes I think parts of him are still here.” He taps at his temple, and Lance has to blink quickly, school his face blank.

“What do you mean?” He hates how telling the tone of his voice is, but Shiro doesn’t seem to notice.

“I don’t know,” Shiro says. He shakes his head. “It’s like muscle memory, mostly. I just think he’d have told Sam about Hikaru. Just a feeling I have.”

“That — that’s good,” Lance says. “If he didn’t, though, we’ll find him.”

“Thanks, Lance,” Shiro says, and smiles at him. “You’re getting good at that.”

“What?”

“Saying the right thing.” Shiro stands, and then holds out his hand to Lance, offering to help him up. “C’mon, it looks like the food is ready.”

Lance needs about eighty years to think, but he doesn’t have that luxury. He grabs Shiro’s hand and lets himself be pulled back into the group.

Shiro had kissed him first. Lance mostly thinks it was a way to distract himself from the worsening headaches, the moments when he couldn’t remember where he’d just been, or what he’d been doing. Lance wasn’t going to say no. It was easy to give Shiro what he wanted, since Keith wasn’t there to do it, and Lance had always wanted to anyway. At the time, Lance figured once they determined the cause of the headaches and treated them, Shiro wouldn’t need him that way anymore, so he was stocking up on memories for as long as possible.

They’re mostly painful to look back on now.

They spend two days on an aquatic planet deep cleaning all of the Lions from air filters to windows to the storage compartments hidden along the inside of the hold. Lance also takes the opportunity to surf, and fish, and unwind. It’s been a trying couple of weeks, and unless they find a miracle means of high-speed travel it’ll be months yet before they see home.

“You said you’d teach me,” Pidge says, firm. “When we were at the Garrison.”

“Pidge, I’m a terrible teacher,” Lance says. “I didn’t know that then, but I know it now.”

Pidge rolls her eyes, and Lance glances down the beach to Allura and Romelle watching, rapt, as Hunk builds a complicated sand castle. Keith is just finishing up scrubbing down one of Black’s eye-windows, Shiro asleep leaning against Black’s front paw. Things haven’t been awkward with them, but Lance hasn’t had the guts to ask if there’s anything else Shiro remembers. At least he already knew he’s a coward when it comes to Shiro.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll try to show you, but you’re smarter than me so please don’t yell.”

“Deal,” she says, and shakes on it. Pidge picks it up quickly — she’s used to shifting her weight when grappling so the balance isn’t entirely foreign to her — and when the second sun starts to set, they’re both tired and happy. It’s a good day.

Lance gets four shots off before the Galra return fire. They’re holed up in the ruins of a city that Coran spent most of the ride here describing to them in exquisite detail, but sometimes 10,000 years has a big impact on a place. The foundation is fairly solid, but it doesn’t look like anyone has lived here for a very long time.

“Keith?” Lance shouts.

“You’re clear,” Keith says.

“Roger that,” Lance says. It’s easy to trust Keith when they’re in the thick of things. He rolls out of cover and makes for the next building. He’s supposed to be getting to high ground so he can support Shiro and Pidge as they flank the Galra. Keith is providing a pretty good distraction while Hunk and Allura tackle the ships. 

He’s close enough to Red that he could get back there in a pinch, but there are ground troops to take care of and he’ll be sneakier on his own. The city of Vrantel itself may be a ruin, but the planet is still an important part of the supply chain between Voltron’s allies. The Galra regaining control would make it more difficult to get necessities between systems.

Lance is careful to stay hidden between buildings, relying on Keith to tell him over the comms if he needs to duck down. Finally he’s able to perch himself on a ridge with a good view of the city below. He gets eyes on Shiro and Pidge, notes how close they are to surprising the ground troops, and opens fire.

It’s his own fault that he’s paying more attention to his shooting than his surroundings. He hears the shot, feels the sting and then numbness go through his arm, and instinctively drops down. One of the Galra below got a bead on him, and the aim is easy, but squeezing the trigger sends a line of fire shooting up his arm.

“I’m such an idiot,” he says, low, and then louder, into the comms, “Taking some fire over here! I’m gonna reposition.”

“Okay, just be careful,” Shiro says. He and Pidge are most of the way to their target — the command tent in the middle of the plaza, where the Galra have set up camp.

“Roger,” Lance says. He scoots along the edge of the ridge, finding himself more cover, avoiding another couple of shots. He’s bleeding, but it doesn’t look that bad. He doesn’t have the time or the ability to deal with it now anyway, so medical attention will have to wait.

Instead he grits his teeth and keeps firing, ignoring the way the pain radiates up his arm. There are more important things to worry about at the moment. Shiro and Pidge take the command tent, Keith swooping in to help them, and Hunk and Allura down the ships in orbit. Lance puts his back to the rock he’s been crouching behind and lets out a breath. His arm is throbbing. He carefully pulls back the sliced fabric of his flight suit, and sees just how deep the cut goes, blood still bubbling up as his heart beats.

“Great,” he mutters.

“Lance? You all set?” It’s Shiro. 

Lance takes a quick breath, and then says, “Fine, just a little banged up.”

“Come down to the plaza, we’ll get you fixed up.”

Lance already knows it won’t be as simple as that. They don’t have healing pods anymore. He pushes himself to his feet and starts picking his way down the hillside. “I don’t suppose any of you know how to sew? I never got to take my first aid course at the Garrison.”

He figures that the warning will let them know what to expect, but instead he gets Hunk saying, “Okay, mister, get your butt down here.”

“Sir yes sir,” Lance says, and goes.

“You could have said something,” Shiro says, while he puts in the stitches. He’s the only one of them who actually knows how. Allura found a medkit among the Galra camp, rubbed some topical anesthetic around the edges of the wound, but Shiro and Coran are the only ones with the know-how to sew him up, and Shiro insisted on doing it himself.

“I would have, if it was life-threatening,” Lance says. If it had been worse, they probably would have heard him screaming, anyway. The comms are good that way.

Shiro hums, but it doesn’t sound like he’s agreeing. “We’re a team, Lance.”

“I know,” Lance says. “And clearly it could wait.”

“It does mean you can’t pilot Red,” Keith says. He’s far enough away that Lance hadn’t thought he was listening.

“I fired my gun just fine,” Lance argues, but Keith snorts, cutting him off.

“And you probably shouldn’t have even done that. You could have caused nerve damage, and we don’t have the Castle of Lions to heal you anymore.”

“Fine,” Lance says. He doesn’t want to argue about it. “You can pilot Red and Shiro can take Black, at least until the cut heals a little.”

That is, if they really end up wanting to give Red back to him. Shiro and Keith are the best pilots they have, even considering that Shiro is down a robot arm. Having one of them out of commision because there are too many pilots probably doesn’t make sense, even if the idea of sitting by and watching them fight without him makes Lance want to vomit.

“It’ll only be for a little while,” Allura says, probably sensing something of Lance’s mood.

“I know,” Lance says, even though he doesn’t. “I’ll just hang out in Red with Keith, and hope his piloting doesn’t make me too motion sick.”

No one laughs, but Lance probably deserves that.

“Sit with me, in Black,” Shiro says. “It would be crowded in Red with Kaltenecker and you, plus Keith’s wolf.”

“Oh,” Lance says, and looks at Allura, Pidge, and then Hunk. None of them speak up to save him, but they’ve all got their own companions already. “I guess that makes sense.”

Shiro smiles, and finishes winding the bandage around Lance’s arm. “We can bond,” he says. “It’ll be fun.”

Lance very much doubts it, but he isn’t going to tell Shiro that.

The first day is fine, because Shiro has to get used to piloting Black again, and with only one arm, which takes concentration. Lance spends most of it sitting to the side, watching Shiro, and trying not to think about the mole on the back of his left shoulder blade, or the way Shiro — fake Shiro — would sometimes just kiss the side of Lance’s neck, or when Shiro told Lance how afraid he used to be of space, and how that’s why he joined the Garrison in the first place. Lance’s arm throbs, and his heart hurts. Eventually he leans his head against the side panel and tries to sleep.

“Lance?” Shiro says, once, but Lance doesn’t want to talk. He recognizes that tone of voice from his Shiro, from the clone, and he’s not sure he’s ready to hear whatever it is that Shiro wants to ask.

When Lance doesn’t respond, Shiro hums, and then reaches out to brush something off of Lance’s shoulder. He chuckles to himself and says, quietly, “Probably better that he sleep anyway. He looks like he could use it.”

Lance remembers this, too — the way that Shiro muttered to himself when he thought no one was around to hear. It’s about all he can do not to cry.

He knew he’d fallen in love with someone who couldn’t love him back, but he’d at least hoped they would both remember the tenderness of it. How kind they were capable of being to each other. Somehow it’s worse to be left alone with the recollection that it happened at all.

As much as Lance tells himself that it doesn’t matter, what he’s feeling doesn’t matter anymore, he can’t stop feeling it.

Shiro’s fingers touch the top of his head, gently ruffling his hair, and then pull away. They’re in the middle of space, the vast emptiness of it, and Lance has never felt more alone.

They stop at a starbase orbiting one of the alliance planets, and Allura sets off with Romelle to make diplomatic contact while Shiro barters for food and medical supplies. Better not to get caught off guard the way they were this time, assuming that nothing bad would happen.

Hunk cleans Lance’s wound and redoes the bandage for him, hands gentle as always.

“How’s spending extra time with the captain?” Hunk asks. He knows the way that Lance looked up to Shiro back at the Garrison, because it was blindly obvious. He’s always poked at Lance about it without knowing the reality of the situation because Lance hasn’t ever told him to stop.

“Probably boring, for him,” Lance says. “I slept most of the way here.”

“Aww, did getting hurt tire you out,” Hunk says, and pouts dramatically because he knows it’ll make Lance laugh.

“Look, some of us need their beauty rest,” Lance says, fluffing his hair. “It’s not my fault that being this attractive is hard work.”

“Can’t you be serious for one moment,” Keith says, mouth a firm line.

“Sorry, not all of us are super stoic, time-displaced soldiers,” Lance says. “Some of us have better coping mechanisms.”

Keith rolls his eyes. He’s been better about not rising to Lance’s bait since he got back from his space whale trip. Lance still isn’t sure what to make of it.

“How’s Red?” Lance asks, rather than think about it, or about Keith’s tiny ponytail, or about the way Shiro kissed Keith’s cheek with a grin before heading off on his task.

“Fine. Just as fast as I remembered,” Keith says. “Are you gonna ask if she misses you?”

“Nah,” Lance says. “I know she does. For one thing I don’t yell as much as you do, and I haven’t crashed her anywhere yet.” It sounds normal, even if Lance isn’t asking, really, because he doesn’t want to know the answer.

“Whatever,” Keith says, waving his hand at Lance and then turning on his heel and heading over to Pidge.

“You know what I like about you, Lance?” Hunk says. “Even though you know he’s shacking up with Shiro you’re incorrigible enough to keep flirting with him.”

“Only because he so dense he doesn’t know,” Lance says. “It’s funny.” It’s 80% a distraction from how he actually feels about Shiro, but it’s how he’s been with Keith since they stopped actually hating each other, and it _is_ funny.

“Okay,” Hunk says with a sage nod. “Sure.”

“Believe what you want, buddy,” Lance says. “I’m not stopping you.”

Lance wasn’t expecting Shiro to be chatty. He spent a lot of time alone with Shiro, fake Shiro, and they didn’t have any trouble filling in the silences, but that Shiro knew everything that had happened, and he knew Lance pretty well, too. This one is curious, and trying to pick up all the details that he missed. Lance wishes he wouldn’t.

Lance is curled up in his seat pretending he’s not watching Shiro pilot, and Shiro is concentrating on the practice maneuvers he’s running the Paladins through, but that doesn’t stop him from making conversation. It's not that that Lance won’t talk to him. It’s just weird, the way every word Shiro says to him settles in his chest and sticks there, weighing him down.

“It’s nice to see you and Keith getting along better,” Shiro says.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Shiro says. To Lance’s immense horror, he’s blushing slightly, pink across his cheeks. “You tease him almost as much as you flirt with Allura. You didn’t used to, before.”

“Oh,” Lance says. “Um, I guess we get along better now than you remember. I’ve never really thought about it. He’s fun to poke at, though he’s harder to get a rise out of now. Maybe he’s finally matured.”

Shiro laughs. “Or he’s figured out that you’re not being serious.”

“I’m not convinced,” Lance says, and smiles. It’s fake, but Shiro doesn’t seem to notice. Lance wonders if the other Shiro would have been able to tell. It’s the kind of train of thought that he can’t stop, but that doesn’t solve anything.

“Sure,” Shiro says. His grin is so wide, almost cheeky. It’s the kind of real pleasure and amusement that Lance didn’t see for weeks before Haggar took full control. He aches, but it’s a reward too. “He’ll surprise you.”

“If you say so,” Lance says.

“Can I ask you something else?” Shiro asks. There's hesitance in his voice, now, and it makes Lance stiffen up. He’s sure that this is what Shiro was going to ask him the other day.

“Go ahead,” Lance says. 

“How well did you know my clone?”

Lance feels his breath catch in his throat, and tries to play it off with a little cough. “How well?”

“Yeah. He was with you guys for a long time, but Keith was gone a lot, with the Blades, and then Krolia, and I — no one really wants to talk to me about him.”

“What do you want to know?” Lance manages to keep his voice even, but it’s a real struggle.

“What was he like?” Shiro asks. He’s clearly been working himself up to asking, and Lance can’t just say — well, he can’t say much of anything, really. “Sometimes I feel, I don’t know, that all these things I wasn’t there for are familiar anyway. Or — I’ll remember snippets of conversation.” He trails off, shaking his head.

Lance licks his lips, and looks down at his hands, curling into his lap. His arm aches. “He was like you,” he says. “I mean — he was you, wasn’t he? He didn’t know the difference, I don’t think. He didn’t know he wasn’t real. Or that he was being — used, by Haggar.”

“I don't think he did,” Shiro says.

“He got headaches. There were mood swings, too, near the end. But other than that, he was just Shiro. A good leader, a good friend, caring and competent and self-sacrificing.” Lance balls his hand, the uninjured one, into a fist. His fingernails dig into flesh, and it stings, and that’s okay. It keeps his head clear. “We got closer, him and me, during that time. I was trying to help him, but I guess I didn’t even know what was wrong.”

“How could you have?” Shiro asks. “_He_ didn’t know. He couldn’t have told you if he didn’t know.”

“Yeah,” Lance says, because it's true, but he’s thinking about how desperate Shiro was, sometimes, near the end. He’d press his face into Lance’s neck, and pretend he wasn’t crying, and Lance would hold onto him until they both slept. He’d clutch at Lance tight enough to leave bruises, and Lance didn’t mind, but he worried. He didn’t mind being that person, the one Shiro relied on, but it was increasingly clear that he wasn’t enough. All the desperate sex in the world couldn’t drive Haggar out of the space behind Shiro’s eyes.

“Where did you just go?” Shiro asks, and Lance shakes his head.

“Oh, um. Sorry. Thinking about — it doesn't matter.”

“It does,” Shiro says. His voice isn’t stern, but it has that CO firmness to it, where he’s definitely the captain and not just Lance’s friend. “What aren’t you saying?”

Lance swallows. “I was closer to Shi — the clone than I think everyone realizes,” Lance says, and then reconsiders. “Well, except maybe Allura, she might have known.”

“Known? Known what?”

Lance wants to laugh, and he wants to hide, and he can’t manage to do either. He shouldn’t say anything, because it’ll change how Shiro looks at him, how all of them do, but he’s exhausted and sad and tired of being alone. He wonders if it’ll be freeing, finally being honest. He wonders if they’ll be angry with him.

“We were sleeping together,” Lance says, and doesn’t look at Shiro. “Keith was gone, and Shiro — he needed someone, so. I wanted to help him. I was happy to be that person. I think I did help him, for a while, at least. I figured it would last until Keith came back, and then it would go back to, you know, normal. Whatever that means.” Lance does laugh, then, but it’s closer to a sob than it should be. “He was great, he was — he was _you_, you know? Kind. And then he wasn’t anything anymore.”

Lance tucks his chin against his knees, staring out at the stars, the streaks of color that mean the Lions are still moving. If this fucks everything up, they’ll still have enough pilots, at least. There’s that.

“Lance,” Shiro says, and Lance doesn’t know what to do with the sympathy in his voice. He doesn’t look over, just shakes his head.

“It’s fine. It is what it is, anyway. So now you know why I was acting the way I was. You’re — it’s his _body_ that you’re in. He had scars that you didn’t, just from Volton, from the war, and sometimes I wonder if they’re still there, or if they’re gone now that he is.”

“They’re not,” Shiro says. His voice is soft, gentle in a way that’s almost placating. “I’m so sorry, Lance.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t even know.”

“No, but — I wondered, I guess, what I was missing. Like you said, it’s his body.” Shiro’s voice is without inflection, too even, and that’s what makes Lance look up. Shiro’s brow is furrowed, and he’s looking down at his hand like it should be able to tell him something. “I can’t explain it. I don’t remember anything, not exactly, but sometimes my fingers —“ He cuts himself off, shaking his head.

Lance sighs and uncoils, slumping back in the chair, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling of the cockpit. “I didn’t mean to avoid you, really. It’s not your fault. It’s just hard not to think about him when I look at you.”

There’s a long pause, and then Shiro asks, “Do you want to fly with someone else until you’re healed up?”

“I don’t know,” Lance says. “Let me think about it.”

“Okay, Lance,” Shiro says. “Whatever you need.”

Lance feels hollowed out, like someone scooped out his heart and lungs and spine, but it could be worse. Shiro could be angry with him for Keith’s sake, or disgusted at the idea of Lance having sex with his clone — with the body that Shiro is currently inside. Instead Lance just has to wonder what Shiro meant about his hands, and if Shiro is going to tell anyone other than Keith. It is what it is.

They land for dinner, and to set up camp for the night. Lance sticks to Allura for awhile, soothed listening to her talk to the mice. She touches his shoulder, briefly, but doesn’t ask for details. It’s nice to be out of the enclosed space of Black’s cockpit, to breathe a little air that isn’t full of the memories of Shiro. They didn’t talk much after, and that was fine with Lance but now he’s not sure what to say. If he decides to fly with someone else they’re all going to want to know why.

“You’re quiet,” Allura says. It’s not quite a question. Romelle and Hunk are talking over the campfire, and Pidge has pulled Shiro aside. Coran is still banging around on Blue, presumably fixing something. Lance doesn’t know where Keith is — probably off hunting with his wolf.

“Emotionally draining day,” Lance says. “I’m tired of being injured, Princess.”

“We’re tired of you being injured, too, Lance, so why don’t you try not to get hurt again? Or captured, either.”

Lance snorts. “I always do my best. Can I just sit with you and not talk for awhile?”

It’s the closest he’s gotten to admitting that something is actually wrong, outside of talking to Shiro. Allura is perceptive, anyway, and so Lance doubts she wasn’t already aware. It’s easier with her than with Hunk or Pidge. She has fewer expectations of him.

“Of course,” Allura says, and touches his shoulder again, transferring one of the mice there. It wraps a little paw around Lance’s earlobe and then curls up against his neck. Lance sighs and closes his eyes.

He falls asleep, and is only woken when Hunk is finished cooking. He’s made a stew, spicy and warm, full of vegetables and some kind of meat that tastes similar to beef. Lance eats two helpings, and offers to be first watch. Maybe Allura has told them he’s not feeling well, or they’ve just sensed his mood, but either way no one bothers him.

The night is quiet. This planet is primarily made up of cracked salt flats, broken up every once in awhile with pockets of the ocean that has almost entirely receded but used to cover most of the surface. The skeletons of humongous sea creatures occasionally jut up out of the land, or are revealed by the climbing winds. Lance holds his bayard close, but there’s been no sign of life on the planet thus far and they aren’t planning on doing any further exploring.

It would be a good time for Lance to come up with some kind of game plan, but he can’t find a good solution. It won’t take long before everyone knows what he did, what he and the clone of Shiro did, and it will change how they feel about him. There’s the distinct possibility that once he’s back in Red’s cockpit — if Keith does move back to Black when he’s healed — they may not be able to form Voltron anymore. Too much disharmony.

It might be better if he stays on Earth once they get there. He’s sure he can give the Garrison valuable input, even if Sam is already working with them. Shiro can stay in Black, and stop feeling whatever leftover echoes there might be from the clone. Keith will stay in Red, and Lance will see his family, find out how far up the chain of command Veronica has gotten by now.

Ultimately — ultimately he has to do whatever is best for the universe.

It feels good to have a decision, even if it makes him sad. He loves being a paladin of Voltron, but sacrifices must be made.

The salt flats are beautiful, once you’ve watched them long enough to track the pattern on the wind, the way the light from the five moons glint down into the bones. Desolate and cold, but beautiful, too. Lance folds his bayard in his lap, and stops thinking about anything in particular until Keith touches his shoulder.

“My turn for watch,” Keith says. “Go to sleep.” There’s something in the way he doesn’t meet Lance’s eyes that tells Lance Shiro talked to him already. Jeez. He doesn’t seem furious, but he doesn’t seem comfortable either. Lance decides not to ask.

“Okay,” he says, pushing himself to his feet. He stretches his back, his joints popping back into place. “Night.”

“Lance,” Keith starts, and Lance turns back to look at him. He scrubs a hand through the hair loose against his neck, and shakes his head. “Nevermind, it can wait until the morning.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. You should sleep.” Keith’s eyes flick back to the tent he’s sharing with Shiro, and then he meets Lance’s gaze for the first time since he showed up. 

Lance nods. He wants to push, but he also doesn’t want to know. He goes to bed.

After breakfast, Allura says, calm as anything, “Lance, why don’t you ride with me today? I want to take a look at your wound. Romelle, would you mind terribly going with Shiro?”

“Oh, of course not,” Romelle says. “I’ll admit I’m curious to see the inside of the other Lions. Very exciting.” She claps her hands, laughing, and Allura smiles.

“Perfect. Lance?”

“Oh, uh. Sure, Princess. I think it’s healing well, though.” He wiggles his arm for effect, and it only twinges once or twice. Hunk reaches out to stop him, probably on instinct.

“In any case,” she says, smiling. 

“Yeah, okay,” Lance says, helplessly returning her smile. He sneaks a glance at Shiro, whose mouth is pressed firmly and evenly shut. He doesn’t look happy, but he also doesn’t seem about to speak up. Keith is just looking at Shiro, his expression unreadable. Lance is relieved — he doesn’t have to decide what to do now that Allura has decided for him — but he wonders what Shiro would have said to him today, when they were alone.

“Are you feeling better?” she asks, once they’re safely ensconced in Blue and Allura starts to unwind his bandage. It’s a comfort to be here, honestly. Lance loves Red, but Blue was his first Lion.

“I am,” Lance says, watching her inspect the knitting cut. It’s mostly true. He’s come to a decision, and that makes him feel like he has a path ahead of him. He just has to walk it. “The sleep helped.”

“I feel that I should apologize to you,” Allura says. She smooths salve over the cut and starts to wrap it again. “I suspected that you and — the clone of Shiro were growing closer, but I’m afraid I didn’t realize how close.”

It’s hard to know if Shiro said something or if she’s decided that the shifting dynamics warrant her speaking up. Ultimately it doesn’t matter. “No one did, Princess. That’s not your fault, it isn’t as if we told anyone. And it wasn’t supposed to be anything deeper than comfort.”

“It was, though. Wasn’t it?”

Lance can’t look at her while he talks about this. He keeps his eyes on the planet slowly moving out of their view. “For me — I think for him too. If what he felt was even real.”

“I think it was,” Allura says, though she sounds more contemplative than confident. “He may have been a clone but he was a person, too, for a time.”

“And now his body is Shiro’s body. Nothing about him exists anymore. Except, I suppose, his scars.” It’s a funny thing to say out loud. He’s been dancing around even thinking it. There wouldn’t have been a burial for him anyway, not with the way he tried to kill Keith, but there would have been _something_ marking that he was there. Now there’s just the slice across Shiro’s belly, and the burns on the back of Shiro’s left thigh. The bruises Lance put on him are long gone.

Lance can’t regret that, because Allura couldn’t have brought Shiro back otherwise, but that doesn’t make it not ache.

“You’re allowed to mourn,” Allura says, her mouth serious. “You did not have to hide from us.”

“It wasn’t going to last anyway,” Lance says, shrugging. “Keith was always going to come back. I knew that. And I didn’t want to cause friction with them now.”

“You’re unfair to yourself,” Allura says. “I don’t know why I’m surprised.” She sighs, and then pulls him into a hug. Lance melts into it. He hadn’t realized how much he needed one.

“Thanks, Allura,” he says. “You’re a good friend.”

“Not good enough, I fear,” she says, but she smiles. “Come, the mice and I like to play party games while we fly.”

They fly through a mostly empty expanse of space over the next several days, and have to rely on the food stores they have secreted away in the Lions. They’re all relieved when they finally arrive at a friendly planet again and are able to land and stretch their legs.

Lance has enjoyed having Allura and the mice for company, the break they provided him, but it’s nice to breathe non-recycled air. He also knows that it’s likely either Keith or Shiro will want to talk to him, now that they’ve all been freed. It’ll be good to have it out, whatever that means, and know where he stands. They’re going to have to fly together for some time yet.

The market is made up of floating outdoor stalls at different tiers, connected with hovering staircases and walkways. Strands of hanging plants dangle off of everything — the sides of the staircases, the walls of the stalls, even the strings of orb lights stretched to mark the paths. The plants themselves are covered in small coned blossoms of all colors. The whole market smells sweet, almost like citrus. Calming.

Coran rattles off responsibilities — Hunk is sent off to look for replacement couplets of some kind, way above Lance’s paygrade, and Romelle is tasked with replenishing their food stores. Pidge sets out to find a specific mineral she can use for the sensors she’s still fiddling with, and Allura needs to check in with the rest of the coalition leaders and make sure nothing too horrible happened while they were between planets.

“What do you want me to do?” Lance asks. He’d rather not sit around doing nothing.

“Snacks?” Coran says, like he’s hazarding a guess. “Oh! There used to be a fried pastry here that was delicious! Shaped and dyed to look like the flowers, you see, and filled with some kind of sweet bean paste. What were they called again?” He taps his chin.

“I’m sure I can find them,” Lance says. “Or something else delicious.”

“I’ll go with you,” Keith says. It’s as transparent a ploy as last time.

“Uh, sure. You can buy me lunch,” Lance says, and winks. 

Keith’s eyebrows go up, but he rallies. “Yeah, okay.”

Lance is nervous, but he follows Keith away from the Lions and up the three sets of stairs to the food level. Before they’re out of sight, Lance glances back at Shiro, who is watching them walk away, Keith’s wolf sitting calmly at his feet. Maybe Shiro thinks Lance won’t want to talk to him, if he’s leaving the conversation to Keith. Maybe Keith just wanted first stab at Lance.

“I will actually buy you lunch,” Keith says. He’s not looking at Lance, instead watching the passerby, wary as always.

“I wasn’t being serious,” Lance says. “I know you want to talk.”

“Still.”

Lance watch Keith taste free samples — roasted vegetables that look nothing like Lance has ever tried, a stew so thick he has to chew it, pastries baked into the shape of some kind of tentacled snail creature. He’s never given Lance the impression he cares that much about food outside of its ability to keep him alive, but Lance lets him take the reins. It’s fun to watch, in a way — cute. Keith’s brow furrows when he concentrates, and he has a tendency to lick the grease off of his fingers. He does eventually take a wrapped package from a merchant, though Lance is paying more attention to Keith’s enjoyment of it and has no idea what he’s bought. 

Keith waves him closer, and then says, “Why don’t we find somewhere to eat? We can talk then.”

Lance nods, though he’s sure he’s going to be too nervous to really eat. “That sign has a chair on it,” he says. “Seems promising?”

They follow the signs over a few rows, and there they find a garden full of tables of all sizes. The flowers here are much larger, ringed around running fountains which are each connected by narrow silvery paths. The sound of the water lends a feeling of privacy, even though more than half of the tables are full. Lance sees some species he knows, and many he doesn’t. No one glances at them as they find a seat close to the far side of the garden. Lance does his best not to sit on the edge of his chair.

“Here,” Keith says, and puts one of the snail pastries in front of Lance. “I also did find those flowers, but they aren’t actually that tasty.”

“Keith,” Lance starts, but Keith shakes his head.

“It can wait,” he says. Lance wants to tell him that he shouldn’t bother, they should just get it over with, but Keith is being nice to him. Cautious. Lance eats the pastry.

It’s delicious. Floral, like lavender, maybe. Or pine. Some alien mixture of the two.

“I also got us some kind of meat and cheese sandwich, but it’s less exciting.” Keith is looking around the courtyard, and this time Lance can’t tell if he’s looking for possible exits, threats, or if he’s just avoiding looking at Lance.

“Keith,” Lance says again, and Keith’s eyes flicker over to him and then away. “Just rip the band-aid off, okay? I promise I can take it.” Or pretend to, anyway.

Keith’s brow furrows and he tilts his head, finally looking at Lance for real. “I — what do you think is going to happen here?”

“I’m just waiting to find out if you’re mad at me,” Lance says, and laughs. It’s not funny, except that there was a time when Keith was always mad at him, and Lance liked it that way. Saving the world together will change that, he guesses.

“Why would I be mad at you?” Keith asks, and he seems honestly puzzled. Lance doesn’t get it.

“Because I slept with the guy I thought was your boyfriend? Even if he turned out not to be, it’s not like I knew it at the time.”

“Shiro loves me,” Keith says, and shrugs. “I know he does, plus I was gone a long time and we didn’t make any promises. I don’t know what would have happened if I’d come back and you’d still been — together, but I’m not going to lose sleep at night over it.”

Lance knows exactly what Shiro would have done, because Lance would have told him to do it. Shiro isn’t cruel, and wouldn’t hurt Lance on purpose, and that’s why Lance would have had to make sure he did what he really wanted. Lance didn’t have to, in the end, but he would have done it.

“He wasn’t really Shiro anyway,” Lance says.

Keith sighs, says, “That’s not what I wanted — he was real enough, I think.” He pauses, and Lance can see that his hands are clenched tightly where he’s resting them on the tabletop. “Shiro thought something was wrong, you know? With you. And I thought he was worrying too much.”

“You feel — guilty?” Lance is guessing, because it doesn't seem likely, but he’s already been wrong today.

Keith shrugs. “I feel like I should have been able to tell. I should know you better than that. Maybe I just didn’t want to know. Maybe it was easier that way.”

“I didn’t want you to know either,” Lance says. “If that makes you feel better. I don’t even really know why I said anything. I can’t bring him back, and I don’t know if I’d want to, and that — it sucks. If he were still here, Shiro wouldn’t be. But I miss him.”

Keith’s mouth purses, and he looks at the plants over Lance’s shoulder. He's really not very good at this. Lance appreciates that. “I — I’m sorry, though, for you. That you’re sad. That you didn’t think we’d want to know.”

Everyone’s apologizing to Lance, and Lance doesn’t know how to respond or how to feel about it. “Aw, thanks, Keith,” he says, which is better than nothing. “That’s nice of you.”

Keith’s face slowly turns red, and he scrubs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, well. Eat your sandwich, okay? And — and talk to Shiro.”

“Sure,” Lance says. “Okay, Keith.”

Keith splits off and heads to Shiro when they get back to the Lions. Shiro looks over at Lance for a long moment but doesn’t call out to him, and when Keith touches his arm, he smiles and pulls Keith into Black with him. It gives Lance some time to himself, to think. So Keith isn’t angry with him — it’s a relief, but Keith’s guilt seems even weirder. Everything else aside, Keith was the one the clone tried to kill. If anyone should be happy that the clone is dead, that the real Shiro is back, it’s Keith.

“So weird,” Lance mutters to himself, and then decides to go find Hunk.

Hunk is lying on the floor inside one of the maintenance panels, crooning to Orange as he tightens bolts. His head pops up when Lance sits cross-legged on the floor next to him.

“I’m mad at you, you know,” Hunk says, conversational, and it’s all Lance can do not to say, _well, at least someone is_.

“What did I do?” Lance asks, propping his chin up on his hand, elbow digging into his knee.

“I don’t know, Lance, what didn’t you do? You were shacking up with clone Shiro and I didn’t know. You were sad that he died and didn’t tell me! And to top it all off, _then_ you got hurt and basically said ‘whoops, sorry I’m bleeding everywhere, that’s probably not important, is it?’”

Hunk’s neck is turning red, his cheeks pink, gesturing with his wrench and glaring mostly at the ceiling. Lance wonders who told him, but he doesn’t care. It’s better than having to say the words out loud, explain it all over again. He knew once he said something that it wouldn’t stay a secret.

“Hunk —”

“I don’t know, man, way to make us feel like you don’t trust us, I guess? Or like you think we don’t care about you?” Hunk sighs. Lance knows that when he says ‘us’ and ‘we’ Hunk is mostly talking about himself. “How am I supposed to help you if you don’t tell me anything?”

”I didn’t know how,” Lance says. He shrugs. “Everyone was so happy to have Shiro back, the real one, and no one seemed to mind so much that the clone we’d spent almost a year with was dead. And I didn’t want to complicate things with Keith and Shiro.”

“Ugh,” Hunk says. “It’s not like everyone doesn’t know you’ve had a crush on Shiro since we started at the Garrison —”

“Yeah, well, now I know what he kisses like,” Lance says, grim. “Among other things.”

For some reason that shakes Hunk out of arguing. He pushes himself up so he can properly sit facing Lance. “I just want you to be happy,” he says. “And I wish you’d known you could talk to me.”

“It just didn’t seem like there was anything you could do about it,” Lance says. “Sorry.”

“You’re the worst,” Hunk says, matter of fact. “It doesn’t always have to be about doing something. I could have just given you a hug! In fact, come here, I’m giving you a hug right now.”

“You’re making me move?” Lance asks, arch, but when Hunk holds his arms open, he crawls over, and lets Hunk hug him. He’s a good hugger, warm and solid. Lance droops slightly, leaning into it.

“Feeling better?”

“A little, I guess,” he says. “Thanks, Hunk.”

They get into another skirmish in the next system. Lance is back in Blue with Allura, and he hates that there’s nothing he can do. Keith and Pidge are on the ground, infiltrating a base for new intel on Galra movements in the neighboring galaxies, and Lance is doing nothing.

“I can feel your frustration from over here,” Allura says, mild, as she knocks fighters out of the air.

Lance crosses his arms over his chest, and then winces when it pulls at the partially-healed gash on his arm. “I hate not helping, Princess.”

“You’ll be healed and back in your Lion where you belong soon enough,” Allura says, like it’s a given. “Have patience.”

“I’m only patient when I’m lining up a shot through the scope of my sniper rifle,” Lance says. Allura laughs at him, and then her focus is drawn to helping Hunk clear off the roof of the facility, giving Pidge and Keith an exit.

“Shiro,” Pidge says on the radio. “We’ve downloaded the contents of the main computer’s storage database. It looks like the Galra have a few strongholds in the area, but they have allegiances to different factions. We can comb the information for more specifics when we’re back on the Lions.”

“Good,” Shiro says. “Allura, Hunk?”

“We’ve got the roof clear,” Hunk says.

“Roger that,” Shiro says.

“We’re headed your way now,” Keith says.

Allura gives her okay, and then scans the area for any remaining targets they might have missed. When Keith’s wolf teleports him and and Pidge to the roof, Hunk scoops them up in Orange’s mouth, and they head back to the camp they’ve set up on the other side of the mountain range bordering the facility.

“Shiro’s running a pretty tight ship,” Lance says, watching as the cleared scrub gives way to thick forest and then to craggy cliffs. A few spined mammals pick their way across the rock, toes gripping at the sheer face.

“Yes, his strategic insight is valuable,” Allura says. She presses Blue forward, picking up speed. “You know he could provide it without piloting a Lion himself.”

“But should he?” Lance asks. “He’s never been one to hang back in a fight.”

“Neither have you,” Allura says, because she’s direct even when Lance himself isn’t. “I seem to recall you throwing yourself into danger on more than one occasion, despite warnings to the contrary.”

“But Shiro is _Shiro_, Princess.”

“Perhaps you should ask him what he thinks,” she says, and smiles. She’s empathic, but no-nonsense when she wants to be. “I know he has been anxious to talk to you.”

“He hasn’t seemed like it,” Lance says, confused. He can feel his brow furrowing.

“I think he is trying to give you space,” Allura says. “He is a good commanding officer, but he’s also a good friend.”

“I know,” Lance says. He’s a good boyfriend, too. Sweet, kind, thoughtful. He always thinks of other people first. Lance can only imagine how much more he is now, this version of him, the real one that’s not slowly deteriorating while Lance tries desperately to hold him together. 

Lance watches Keith and Shiro. They destroy two more Galra bases, and spend an entire day slowly following behind an enormous space dragon with glittering, midnight colored scales and whiskers that float as if underwater. Coran tells them that it’s intelligent, and nearly indestructible, and it swims through the universe searching for a safe spot to lay its eggs.

They’re halfway to earth, maybe, if Pidge’s calculations are correct, which they usually are.

“We should be able to start sending messages to them sometime in the next two weeks,” she says. “So there’s that to look forward to.”

Lance imagines seeing Veronica’s face, his parents, his niece and nephews, and it’s enough to make his heart ache.

They land for a short break on another planet mostly covered in ocean, temperate and warm. The plant life towers over them, leaves the size of one of the Lions’ massive heads. They make a bonfire, and roast the fish-like creatures that they manage to catch.

Pidge sits next to him and doesn’t urge him to talk, which is pleasant, just answers his questions about the progress they’re making using technical language that he doesn’t entirely understand but finds comforting anyway.

“I’m not going to pry,” Pidge says, after they’ve finished eating, and sucked the leftover juices off of their fingers. “But if you need anything — you’re my friend too, you know.”

“I know. Thanks, Pidge.”

She grins at him and gives him a thumbs up, before picking up where she left off.

When they head to bed, the fire burned down to embers, Lance finds himself hovering outside Keith and Shiro’s tent. Romelle is on first watch, and facing away from him at the moment, but his heart is racing. He’s nervous.

There’s nothing to knock on, and he doesn’t want to pull back the flap without announcing his presence, in case they’re — busy, so instead he leans in and calls out. “Um, Shiro? Keith? Do you guys — are you still awake?”

It’s Shiro who pulls the tent flap open, dressed in sweatpants and a soft t-shirt, his hair flattened slightly to his forehead.

“We’re up,” Shiro says. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh, it’s fine, I was just — I was wondering if you had a moment.”

“Ah,” Shiro says, and takes a step back. “Sure, come inside.”

“Did you want me to go?” Keith is sitting on the edge of the bed, also wearing loose pants and a t-shirt. He looks uncertain.

“No, you don’t have to,” Lance says. He smiles, wry. “I know he’ll tell you anyway.”

“I —” Shiro starts, but Lance waves him off.

“It’s fine, I don’t care.”

Shiro steps back to let him in, so Lance moves just inside the entrance. He doesn’t need to stay long, and the only place to sit is on their bed, anyway. Shiro walks over to Keith, but doesn’t sit either.

“What is it?” Shiro asks.

Lance takes a deep breath. “I just wanted to let you know, I’m thinking about staying behind on Earth once we get there.”

“What?” Shiro’s eyes are wide. “Why?”

Lance shrugs. “Voltron only needs five pilots, and you’re doing fine without me — obviously, since you and Keith were the two best pilots in the Garrison. It would be stupid to sideline one of you for me, and I’m sure I could help out the Garrison somehow.”

“Lance —” It’s Keith, the shock in his voice something of a surprise. Lance waves at him to be quiet, and he cuts himself off, though he doesn’t look happy about it.

“Plus I think I need some time,” Lance says. “To mourn him, and get over it. Get over you, I guess, Shiro, even though it wasn’t really you.” Lance wants to curl in on himself, make himself look as small as he feels, but he keeps his shoulders up and his back straight. He has to stop being apologetic about what he’s feeling.

“But —” Keith shakes his head. “Lance, no one wants you to leave. We need you.”

Lance snorts. “Sure, it’s nice to have a backup pilot —”

“This is literally the first time you haven’t been part of Voltron since we first got the Lions, everything we’ve accomplished so far we’ve done with your help, and now you’re just fine with leaving?” Keith seems suspended somewhere between worry and anger, his cheeks red, his eyebrows furrowed. Lance wasn’t expecting it.

“I’m not saying I didn’t do anything, Keith, but you and Shiro are both back now, so —”

“So what? So you can just slink off and you think none of us will give a shit? What is Hunk going to say? Allura? That’s — we’re only just starting to understand what you’ve been going through, but we’re trying, Lance.”

Lance doesn’t know who Keith means, exactly — he and Shiro? All of them? “They’ll understand,” he says, instead of asking. “I’ll explain it to them. Keith, it’s _hard_ to be here, and I knew — like, I knew you and Shiro were always going to be what you are, but I didn’t know that watching you was going to hurt the way that it does. I’m sorry, I’m not strong enough to mourn him and want Shiro and not be sure which feelings matter all at the same time.”

Keith opens his mouth again to speak, but Shiro holds a hand out, silencing him. Lance has been so focused on Keith that he never looked at Shiro’s expression. It’s awful — hurt and sorrowful. Lance hates it, but it feels necessary. They have to get past this, and being honest is the only way.

“Lance, I’m sorry,” Shiro says. “I should have realized earlier —”

“I didn’t say anything,” Lance says. “How could you have known?”

“I knew something was happening,” Shiro says, mouth pressed into a straight line. “My body — his body — feels different, when you’re nearby. I could have asked why. I should have known that meant something.”

“That’s unfair to you,” Lance says. “I — you shouldn’t be forced to feel any way about me that you wouldn’t on your own.”

“He was me,” Shiro says, like it’s that easy. “In all the ways that matter, in the decisions he made, in the way he cared so much about all of you, he was me. He had my memories, and he didn’t know any better. Anything he did I could have done.”

Lance shakes his head. His throat is tight, his face aching with how much he wants to cry. Shiro is unfairly kind, and it hurts to be faced with. “You should be mad, or at least freaked out, feeling these things he felt, knowing what he did while you were trapped.”

“I’m _alive_,” Shiro says. “I can talk to you again, Keith, all of you. That’s worth anything.”

“How can it be that simple?”

Shiro lifts one shoulder, the shoulder still attached to an arm, and shrugs. “We’ve talked about this a lot, Keith and I. It’s not simple, but the feelings aren’t bad, Lance. I don’t mind feeling them. He loved you.”

Lance pulls in a quick breath, but it doesn’t keep the tears from sliding down his cheeks. It’s stupid, but Shiro had never said it, even though Lance wondered. It seemed stupid to hope, when Shiro was falling apart, when Keith was going to come back and fix him. Keith would always be the one to fix him. It’s close enough to what happened, anyway.

Shiro had loved him.

Lance scrubs at his cheeks, sniffling, but he can’t stop crying. Finally, he covers his face with his hands, and so when arms slide around him, holding him, he jolts.

“Sorry,” Keith says, breath warm against his ear, grip tightening. “I’m better at hugs than Shiro is right now.”

Lance laughs, helplessly, even though it’s half sob. Keith is warm, his arms firm, his chest pressed to Lance’s. Keith is the last person Lance ever expected to hug him, but his grip isn’t hesitant. It doesn’t feel like he’s uncertain at all about doing it. Lance turns into Keith, wrapping fingers into his shirt, holding on. It takes him more time than he’d like, but he gets himself under control, and pulls back enough to look at Keith’s worried face, Shiro now sitting on the edge of the bed.

“He never told me,” Lance croaks.

“Maybe he thought you knew,” Shiro says. “It feels — obvious.”

“I thought — I thought maybe,” Lance says. Keith squeezes him, and they stand like that, wrapped up together. Keith doesn’t seem inclined to let go, and Lance doesn’t want to ask him to. It feels good.

After a moment, Keith laughs softly, almost chagrined.

“What?” Lance asks.

“Just — we had other thoughts about how this conversation might go,” he says.

Shiro sighs. “It really doesn’t seem like the time, Keith.”

“Yeah, I know,” Keith says. “We were a little too optimistic.”

“What are you talking about?” Lance asks.

“Keith suggested — I was going to ask if I could kiss you,” Shiro says. He sounds resigned. “When we talked. I didn’t think you were going to want to leave.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Lance says. “You and Keith —”

“He wants to, is the thing,” Keith says. He’s so close, his face almost pressed to Lance’s neck.

“Just because it’s the clone’s body,” Lance says. This Shiro isn’t in love with him.

“Maybe,” Shiro says. “I wondered about that. I thought it might help, if I kissed you.”

“Help who?” Lance asks. “It wouldn’t help me get over him. Or you.”

“I know,” Shiro says. “I’m sorry. I want to understand him, but we misjudged your feelings, obviously.”

His voice is strained, like he’s stretched to breaking, and Lance recognizes that tone from the last two months the clone was with him. When Lance looks at him, he’s staring at the ceiling, mouth twisted to one side.

“Keith?”

“What?” Keith’s voice is a comforting rumbling, low and vibrating against him.

“Why?” It’s too simple a question, but Lance doesn’t know how to ask everything he wants to ask.

“We talked about it, and it made sense to — test things out. You want to know what’s real, but Shiro does too.”

“What does that even mean?” Lance asks.

“I didn’t listen before, when Shiro told me about what he was feeling. I’m trying to now, even if I don’t know what I’m doing.” Keith shrugs, helpless. “I don’t doubt that Shiro loves me, but maybe that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to figure out between the two of you.”

It’s a bad idea, a terrible idea, even, but Lance is only one person. He’s human, and he’s fallible, and he’s weak. He misses Shiro.

“You can, if you want,” he says, knowing as he does that it’s the wrong call. “You can kiss me. If you think that will help you.”

“Lance, are you —”

“It’s an expiring offer, Keith,” he says, because he’s two seconds from letting his better judgment take over, or his fear. Or both.

He hears Shiro let out a pent-up breath, and he expects Keith to let him go, but he doesn’t. He moves enough to let Shiro approach, but his arms stay around Lance. Shiro stands in front of him for a long moment, and when he looks at Lance, silently asking permission, Lance nods. It’s only then that Shiro grips Lance’s chin with his hand, leaning down to kiss him.

His lips are familiar. The way he kisses is exactly the same. He’s confident and sweet, and it reminds Lance of that first time, when they were both still sweaty from sparring, and Shiro had rolled in closer, smiling so wide, and pressed their mouths together. It had been a thanks more than anything, but heartfelt and good enough to make Lance ache all over. Lance had imagined it even earlier, during stolen moments alone in his dorm, Lance saying something clever and smart and flirty, and Shiro, his hero, laughing and leaning in to kiss him. The real thing was a hundred times better.

This is so similar — Shiro’s mouth against his, his fingers carefully brushing Lance’s face, the little noises he makes. It’s hard to stay present, remember whose Shiro this is, when kissing him feels like tumbling backwards in time.

Shiro is breathing hard when he pulls back. “Oh,” he says. “That didn’t feel like the first time at all.”

Lance wants to be flippant, but can’t manage it. He says, “I guess in some ways it wasn’t. I did kiss him a whole lot.”

Shiro looks at Keith, amazement on his face, and Lance can’t imagine what they want from him. He can’t imagine being an equal, and he can’t imagine surviving being an extra. Not when every kiss would remind him of that sliver of time when he was first choice. It wasn’t for long, and even then he knew it wouldn’t last, but he’d had it.

He pulls out of Keith’s arms, finally, into the chilly air. “Cool, well, if you’re satisfied, I’m just gonna go.”

They turn to him, and Lance can see the moment they realize something is truly wrong. Keith opens his mouth, but whatever he sees in Lance’s expression makes him close it again.

“Lance,” Shiro tries.

“Sorry,” Lance says. He’s feeling tearful again, which is the fucking worst, and he can’t be here anymore. “It’s too much.”

“Lance,” Keith says again, almost pleading, but Lance shakes his head, and leaves.

Maybe they can tell how much he means it, because they don’t follow him.

Lance wakes up after everyone else the next morning. It’s not that unusual for him, though lately Allura or Hunk have been waking him up to change his bandages and check on the wound.

They’ll be leaving this planet soon. Lance hopes to forget that it even exists.

He sits up, gets himself sorted, and grabs a wrapped bundle that Hunk left warming by the fire — it turns out to be rice and fish and some kind of sweet sauce pressed together and steamed in one of the huge fern leaves — and eats while he walks down the beach. Someone tries to talk to him, Pidge, but Lance isn’t up for it yet, and waves her off.

It’s a small island, the kind he could walk all the way around in just over an hour, walk across in much less. He trudges down the beach, just far enough for the Lions to disappear from sight, and then sits, tugging off his boots and digging his toes into the sand. He could almost be home, a quick drive away from his parents’ house, but instead he’s on a different planet.

He eats, and it makes him feel marginally more human, but he’s not sure what he’s going to do. They’re not close to Earth yet, and there’s too much time left for things to get worse. He knows that Shiro — and Keith — didn’t mean to hurt him, that he agreed to it, but that doesn’t mean they didn’t. 

When he finishes eating, he leaves the leaf wrap next to him, and stares out over the ocean. The water is greener than it generally is on Earth — most likely due to the abundance of plant life. They haven’t seen much evidence of large animals of any kind. The sound of the waves is familiar, anyway, and the breeze that blows through Lance’s hair.

He’s not sure how long he sits there without moving. He expects Hunk to be the one to fetch him, but it’s Keith. A shadow falls over him, and Lance looks up to see Keith staring down at him, a frown on his face. After a moment, he sits next to Lance, looking out at the sea with him.

“Sorry,” Keith says. “From Shiro too.”

“I know,” Lance says, but he can’t quite manage the ‘it’s okay’ that should follow.

“Do you not believe that your Shiro loved you?” Keith’s voice is calm, soft, but there’s an edge underneath it that Lance doesn’t understand.

“No, I believe it,” Lance says. “As much as that matters.”

“What do you mean?” Keith asks.

“I don’t think you’d understand,” Lance says, shaking his head. He looks down at his toes, digging them further into the sand.

“Try me,” Keith says, voice dry. When Lance glances at him, he’s staring straight ahead, wrists casually resting on his knees. He looks delicate and strong.

“Say that the clone hadn’t been taken over by Haggar just then,” Lance says. “You said before that you weren’t sure what would have happened when you came back for good, but I do. He would’ve gone back to you.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” Keith says.

Lance shrugs. “Sure I can. You’re Keith, and he was, despite everything, Shiro. He grew to love me, and that’s great, but he _always_ loved you.”

Keith snorts, a soft exhale. It only stings a little. “Did he tell you that?”

“He didn’t have to. It’s not even just me — ask Hunk or Pidge. We all knew that it was inevitable.”

“And you don’t think you changed that at all?”

“No,” Lance says. “Doubly so, when he — when he died, and the Shiro left didn’t remember anything we’d done.”

“I think I get it now,” Keith says. “Why you were so upset. For the record, I don’t think it would’ve been that easy for him to leave you behind.”

“Maybe,” Lance says. “But it doesn’t matter anyway, he’s dead.”

“Sort of, anyway.” Keith sighs, and before Lance can react, turns and kisses Lance on the cheek. Then he pushes himself to his feet, and holds out his hand to help Lance. “C’mon, everyone’s waiting for us.”

Lance looks at it and then gives in, letting Keith tug him up. He picks up his boots, and follows Keith back to the camp.

In Blue, Allura takes off Lance’s bandage, and pronounces him two, maybe three days from returning to duty.

“That’ll be nice, won’t it? To be back in the pilot seat?”

“Sure,” Lance says. He has no doubt now that Shiro will step back and let Keith have Black so that Lance can be back in Red, even if he doesn’t necessarily think they should. “It’ll be nice to have something to do.”

Allura gives him a look, skeptical and assessing, which Lance is only too familiar with. He hasn’t told anyone else about his plan to stay behind on Earth, and he’s not planning on doing it anytime soon, but Allura can often read him like a book.

“I’m happy,” he adds. “I’m just going to be rusty! I hope you’re all ready to cover for me as needed.”

That makes her roll her eyes. “Certainly,” she says. “Should you actually require it.”

They spend two days on a jungle planet, helping the local population clear out the remnants of Galra tech left to cut down the trees and mine the planet for resources. The Baardhoth are sentient plants, spending most of the day out in the bright sun, working, growing, and absorbing nutrients. Much of the actual machinery stopped when the Baardhoth rose up and fought off the Galra, but the leaders want the remnants removed from the planet both in case of a Galra return and to reduce the effect of the trauma remaining from the occupation.

The Baardhoth don’t believe in walls or ceilings, and only use floors for elevation, but they’ve set up the Paladins in their guest quarters, which are more or less like bungalows — open to the air, but with roofs and walls enough to put a few remarkably comfortable beds in. It’s cramped, two structures total for all of them to sleep in, but the work is hard enough that Lance, at least, sleeps easily and deeply.

By the end of the second day they’ve deposited most of the machinery onto the furthest of the planet’s moons, and removed enough necessary components that it would be a struggle to get any of the mining and logging equipment up and running again.

Lance hasn’t spoken to Shiro outside of pleasantries and reports since the night in his and Keith’s tent. Lance isn’t sure what to say, but Shiro is watching him. Keith already passed on his apologies, but maybe he still feels guilty for kissing Lance.

Lance can’t stop thinking about it — Shiro’s mouth on his, familiar and new at the same time, Shiro’s hand so delicate on his face. It had felt like something, it had felt real, but even if it had, the feelings aren’t this Shiro’s. They’re bleeding over from the body that Lance remembers so well. Wanting more isn’t fair to either of them, but Lance has never been smart about that. He _wants_, but he knows that he can’t really have it.

He’d told his Shiro about the crush he’d had, the way he desperately wanted Shiro to notice him, and Shiro had ducked in to kiss his neck, and said that he couldn’t know for sure if it would have happened without Voltron, but he’s grateful. He noticed Lance now. Lance had carried that feeling with him for days afterward, even when Shiro locked himself in his room in the dark, his headache too severe to tolerate and too magical for the healing pods to be of any use.

Lance watches Keith lean in to kiss Shiro on the mouth, brief and chaste, before heading to Red. Lance is glad he didn’t cause them any problems.

Just as Lance expected, Shiro steps aside when Allura pronounces Lance healed and fully functional again.

“This is great news,” Shiro says, with a smile. “Congratulations, Lance, we’re happy to have you back.”

“Are you sure —”

“Yes,” Shiro says, firm. Hunk’s eyebrows are raised, and Pidge is looking between them, so Lance doesn’t push.

“Damn, I thought I was going to get out of having to listen to Keith,” Lance says. “Oh well.”

Keith actually laughs, and then says, “Don’t lie, you never listen to me.”

“Only when you don’t make sense, which, granted, is pretty often, but that isn’t my fault.”

Hunk is looking between them, smiling, and Allura’s expression is fond. Lance is actually happy to be piloting again, even if he thinks it’s partially out of pity. He supposes that he should be happy they want to keep him around. That means something too.

Lance smiles. “Okay, Pidge, where to?”

They run into the Galra in the next system, and Lance has his first chance to not screw up. He does okay — it’s muscle memory, like anything else, and Red actually feels happy to have him back. The Galra had been chasing a resistance craft carrying important intel, but when the Paladins show up, they scatter quickly. The resistance fighters, not a group they’ve been introduced to, thank them by sharing some of the information they’ve harvested. The Galra factions have been whittled down further, with the hopefuls losing footing while the infighting grows. It doesn’t mean the Galra aren’t still a threat, especially with Sendak and Haggar still alive, but there are fewer fronts now.

“Hey guys, I made it through a fight without getting hurt,” Lance says on the comms afterward, and gets back a slightly sarcastic round of cheers.

“Let’s land somewhere for the night, if we can,” Allura says. “We took some hits, and I would like to inspect Blue for damage.”

“Got it, Princess,” Shiro says. “Pidge?”

“There should be a habitable planet further out from the sun. Scans show breathable air, at least. We’ll have to test for compatible food and water.”

“Sounds good,” Shiro says. “Let's head that way.”

It doesn’t seem like Shiro feels bad at all, not piloting. They’re all still following his orders without complaint.

They land on a rocky stretch of land, a deep river bisecting it, running further than Lance can see. On the edge of the horizon there’s a line of huge trees, the beginning of what looks closest to an evergreen forest. Lance and Hunk set out to test the water to see if it’s drinkable while Coran and Allura look over the Lions and Romelle helps Pidge set up camp. Shiro and Keith are checking the perimeter for threats, and talking quietly. They could be discussing him, but they’ve probably got other things to talk about too.

“Hey Lance,” Hunk says, shaking his first sample in its little tube to see if it turns black or green.

“Yes, Hunk?” Lance is mostly watching — they don’t actually need two people to do this, but the buddy system usually works. Just in case.

“Don’t get mad,” Hunk says.

Lance laughs. “Buddy, it would be better if you just said whatever, because now I’m worried.”

“It’s not bad! But, uh, Keith asked me if, like — if we talked about him and Shiro being together.”

“‘We’ you and me, or ‘we’ all of us?”

“All of us, I think. Anyway I told him we did, and that seems to be what he was expecting, but then I thought that you were probably shacking up with clone Shiro at the time, and it seems weird that you never said anything, or even talked about him and Keith differently.”

“That’s because I didn’t feel any different about it,” Lance says. “The whole thing seemed, you know, temporary to me.”

“Oh,” Hunk says. “Doesn’t that suck? I mean, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Lance says. “But it was good too. So I didn’t mind that much.”

“Geez,” Hunk says. “That’s sad, Lance.”

Lance laughs, because it is, but also he got used to it. It didn’t bother him until Shiro died. “I guess I can’t know what would have happened, if it had actually been Shiro, if Keith had come back and Shiro and I were still whatever we were. But I assumed he’d let me down easy, and if not, I’d have convinced him it was okay to go.”

“I feel like you should expect better of us,” Hunk says. The water in his vial has not turned black or green, and is instead a pale murky blue, which is a good sign. He tucks it away. “Not everyone, not all the time, but we’re all we have out here, and none of us want to hurt you.”

“I don’t think you do.” Lance tilts his head back to squint up at the sky. He must not be explaining himself well enough. “Shiro’s a good person, and not cruel, either. But you know how obvious it was, with them. You and Pidge and I talked about it all it the time, like you told Keith. Like I told Keith.”

“Yeah, while you and Shiro — clone Shiro, whatever — while you and him were sleeping together.” Hunk shrugs, uncomfortable. “It’s like you don’t expect good things to happen to you, but you should. You’re allowed to have good things too. I want you to be happy.”

“I just tend to want things that I can’t have,” Lance says. “I know that sounds bad, but sometimes that’s just how life is. And — Keith deserves it too. I fight with the kid, but he should get to be happy too. I can’t begrudge him any of it.” He exhales, and tries to change the subject. “Anyway, in a few weeks we’ll get to see our families, and maybe take a short breather from life piled on top of each other in space.”

“I just think you shouldn’t rule anything out,” Hunk says. “But I can’t wait to cook with my mom. A break would be nice.”

“Imagine having a bed consistently,” Lance says, and stretches. Hunk has a point — Lance is used to life smacking him in the face, and used to having to work really, really hard for the happiness he does get, but he could stand to stop bracing for the pain all the time, if he can convince himself to.

He misses Shiro, though. He doesn’t expect that’ll stop anytime soon.

“Imagine having real cooking implements, Lance,” Hunk says, wrapping an arm around Lance’s shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get back. The water isn’t going to burn us alive.”

They all eat dinner together that night, scrounged from the remains of their last supply stop. Lance spends most of the evening talking to Romelle about Altean customs, while Allura interjects, usually to exclaim about something that changed in the time she was frozen. There’s enough that’s slightly different, just off enough for her to notice, and Lance can only imagine how weird that must be.

Afterward, they sort out the watches — Keith offers to go first, then Pidge, then Coran, then Hunk. They mostly split up for bed, settling in for the night, but when Lance stands up, meaning to head to the tent he’s sharing with Hunk, Keith stops him.

“Do you mind sitting up with me for a bit?”

“Uh, no, sure,” Lance says. It’s unusual, obvious even for someone with as little subtlety as Keith, but Lance doubts he’d have been able to sleep immediately anyway. He sits back down. “What’s up?”

Keith shrugs. His eyes are on the horizon, scanning for movement, even with his posture relaxed. His wolf is curled up, apparently asleep, at his feet. He’s quiet for long enough that Lance starts to wonder if he really did just want company.

“Everything okay?” Lance asks, when the silence is too much.

There’s another long pause, and then Keith huffs a loud breath. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Fix what?” Lance asks, even though he knows, mostly.

“You and Shiro. And me, I guess. I thought that you’d want him, even though he’s not the Shiro you knew.”

“I mean, I do,” Lance says. Keith looks over at him, eyebrows raised. His hair is pulled back, and it makes him look so serious. Young, even though he’s older than Lance is now. “Of course I do. He’s _Shiro_.”

Keith’s mouth quirks up in the corner. “Okay, yeah. I get that. But then — why did you —”

“Why leave? Come on, Keith. I was fine with being a second choice when his first choice was off galavanting through space, trying to find himself. But being a second choice when you’re actually here? What’s the point of that?”

“He wouldn’t think of you like that. Second choice.”

“That doesn’t make it not true,” Lance says. “And you can’t tell me you’d be okay with it the other way around.”

“No, probably not.” Keith shakes his head. “It just feels so stupid. He _likes_ you.”

“His body does anyway,” Lance says, and Keith’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist, so fast that it wrests a startled gasp out of Lance.

“No,” Keith says. “He knew you before. He knows you now. He may not be the Shiro you kissed so many times, but he’s not a stranger either.”

“Keith,” Lance says, voice low, and Keith lets go as abruptly as he’d lashed out. Lance’s wrist will probably be bruised later.

“Ugh,” Keith says. “I told you, I don’t know how to fix this. I hate that.”

“Sorry,” Lance says. “It’s not really up to you.”

“Ugh,” Keith says again, and sighs.

“Okay, sure, pout about it,” Lance says, as if Keith is the one here who should be annoyed or sad or angry, but he doesn’t move to leave. He doesn’t mind keeping Keith company for a little while longer.

In the morning they have to fend off a small invasion of carnivorous lizard animals, probably attracted by the smell of them cooking, and then they pack up. Lance has his bag slung over his shoulder, about to head up into Red, when Shiro calls out from behind him.

Lance turns, keeping his face even, and Shiro rubs his hand bashfully against the back of his neck.

“I was wondering if I could ride with you today,” Shiro says. “You can say no.”

“Keith kicked you out?” Lance asks, surprised. Keith had seemed frustrated, but it’s not really his MO.

“No,” Shiro says. “It was my idea. I thought it might be, uh. I thought it would be good to get used to each other again. If you can stand to be around me, I mean.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Lance says, and tries to ignore the naked relief on Shiro’s face. “You can fly with me if you want to, though I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Shiro asks.

Lance shrugs, and then shoulders his pack again. “I don’t know, I’m still basically in love with — him, so. There’s that.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, because he doesn’t really want one. Maybe it’ll be good to talk more with this Shiro, the real Shiro. Maybe he’ll finally be able to separate the Shiro he idolized, and the Shiro he loved, and the Shiro that’s still here. Maybe he’ll find that this Shiro isn’t even the one he wants. He doubts it, but it’s possible.

Shiro is quiet as he climbs up, taking a seat slightly behind Lance. Lance takes a deep breath, and starts launch.

It’s incredibly awkward — neither of them are sure where to start, what topics are safe — until they run headfirst into a squadron of Galra fighters and get distracted from the tension. Shiro barks out orders, Lance and the rest of the team follows them, and they don’t even have to form Voltron to win. When they head off to the next system, Lance finds himself slightly more at ease. He still doesn’t know what they’ll talk about, but Shiro being here wasn’t so distracting that Lance got them both killed, at least.

“You haven’t missed a beat, coming back to Red,” Shiro says. “It’s like you were never injured.”

“The scar is still there if you want proof,” Lance says.

“I’m good,” Shiro says. “I was there when you bled all over everything.”

“It really wasn’t that bad.”

“I’m not sure you can claim that, considering how long you were out of commission,” Shiro says, shaking his head. “You had us worried, you know.”

Lance wants to ask who ‘us’ is, but he thinks it would come across as pointed, like he’s fishing for something. “Call it payback for how much I’ve worried about the rest of you.”

“Really?”

“Well, I guess not you, specifically, since you were trapped on another plane of existence at the time, but sure. We’ve all almost died a ton of times. Clone Shiro alone nearly sacrificed himself whenever possible, and that’s not even taking into account the debilitating headaches.”

“Why do you call him that? ‘Clone Shiro’?”

“I have to differentiate him somehow, I guess, and it’s a good reminder, don’t you think?”

“I think it makes him seem less like a person.” When Lance glances over at Shiro, his mouth is set in a firm line.

Lance can’t help asking, “Was he a person?”

“Am I a person? It’s the same clone body.”

“Yeah, but it’s your real consciousness, not the memories extracted from you when you were captured. You lived those memories, he didn’t.”

“He created plenty of memories that I don’t have,” Shiro says. “I guess — you don’t have to pretend he wasn’t real.”

“Why does it even matter to you? You didn’t know him. He took over your life and none of us noticed.”

Shiro laughs. “He didn’t do it on purpose, and now it’s the other way around. I’m in his body. You don’t have to pretend anything he did mattered less because he didn’t know exactly who or what he was.”

It’s comforting to hear, but Lance is afraid of letting his guard down and losing sight of the truth of the situation.

“I missed so much,” Shiro says, something wistful in his voice. “It’s hard not to be reminded of it all the time.”

“I, uh. I could tell you about it, if you wanted,” Lance says. It could be good — telling Shiro about the scars on his new body, about how the other Shiro was with them. What they struggled through together.

“If you’re sure you wouldn’t mind,” Shiro says. There’s something tentative in his voice. “Keith wasn’t around the whole time, and I think you spent more time with him during that time than Keith even did.”

“I don’t mind,” Lance says. “I can do that.”

It’s easiest when he talks and pretends that Shiro isn’t there listening. Sometimes — occasionally — Shiro will ask a clarifying question, or add in something that Keith mentioned, but most of the time he’s quiet. It reminds Lance of the nights he’d stay in Shiro’s room and talk about his family, the places he’d like to travel once they defeated Zarkon, what he’d like to do with his life after the war. Shiro was always a good listener, though then he’d had his arm tucked around Lance’s shoulders, and they’d both been naked, stuck slightly together with sweat. Sometimes they’d get distracted with kissing. Lance is careful not to talk too much about that.

“He had a birthmark I didn’t have,” Shiro says, when Lance pauses to take a break.

“The one on your hip?” Lance asks.

“Oh — yeah. For some reason that was more surprising than the scars.”

“He didn’t remember it either,” Lance says. “Which I guess could have been a tell of some kind, but it didn’t seem like that big of a deal. There were periods of time that he didn’t remember much of at all, which I’m sure you know.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says, grimacing.

“He thought it could have come during his time in the ring, but he wasn’t sure. We only talked about it once or twice. Not a big deal.”

“How did no one know what was happening with you two? You clearly spent a ton of time together.”

“I thought it would be hard to explain,” Lance says. “And everyone assumed he was waiting for Keith to come back, which he probably was. Not that — he wasn’t against telling the rest of the team, but he respected that I didn’t want to.”

“Did you tell him why? Did he know you thought he was going to leave?” They’re really getting into the meat of it now, and it stings, but Shiro’s voice is calm, empathic, and Lance has always liked talking to him. Has always admired his patience and compassion.

“No, I didn’t,” Lance says. “I guess I didn’t want to know if he’d be upset or if he’d accept it. Either option sucked. Better to be happy in the short term and deal with it later.”

“I don’t think he would have left,” Shiro says, so quiet. “I know you think so, but based on — everything, what you’ve told me, how I feel around you, it just doesn’t seem likely to me. I don’t know what would have happened, but not that.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Lance says, smiling. “We’ll never know.”

“Thank you for talking to me.” Shiro shakes his head. “I know it can’t have been easy.”

“Easier than you think,” Lance says, and then Pidge tells them she’s figured out a way to boost their signal to Earth. They’ll just need a planet with the correct metallic structure to land on first.

“Roger that, Pidge,” Shiro says. “Let us know when you find the place.”

“On it!” Pidge chirps, and then the line cuts out.

“I know you have to do what’s right for you,” Shiro says. “But I just wanted you to know that I don’t want you to stay behind on Earth, when Voltron has to leave. Think about it, okay?”

“Sure,” Lance says, and hates the way it makes his heart warm, knowing that Shiro wants him around.

It’s night when they land on the planet Pidge selected — it’s all rock and metal, no life except for the Galra base bustling on the opposite side of the continent. There are regular patrols, but regular still means once every few hours, so they have enough time to hopefully send their signal and get out before the Galra are due back on this continent.

Of course, nothing goes according to plan.

“I promise I have nothing you want,” Lance insists, and then chokes back a ill-timed chuckle when one of the Galra growls and shoves him forward. On the one hand, Lance could do without being captured, but on the other hand he’s glad it’s not Shiro again, and at least they’ll know where to find him when they figure out he’s gone.

In the meantime, his ribs hurt from the scuffle, and he’s going to have a black eye. Plus, the cuffs are tight enough that they’re already starting to chafe against the skin of his wrists.

They drag him back to the Galra base and dump him into a cell, the door sliding closed behind him. He checks to make sure that it’s locked, just in case, but it is. There are no easily accessible vents to jimmy open and crawl through, so he slumps onto the floor and wriggles around, managing to unzip his suit and check on the bruising. It’s shaping up to be a real humdinger, the skin across the left side of his rib cage already purpling. They left him cuffed, and it’s getting hard to see out of his eye as the skin underneath swells up. He’s lucky he wasn’t in Red, that he’d found a perch to snipe from instead. At least they don’t have his Lion. He leans his head back against the wall with a metallic thud, and closes his eyes.

He’s not sure how long he sleeps, but the doors sliding open again wakes him up. He doesn’t resist — can’t — when he’s hauled up to his feet and dragged down the hall to an interrogation room. Inside is a large Galra soldier, maybe a captain, someone higher-up than the grunts who slapped him around earlier.

“I already told the other guys that I don't know anything,” he says. 

“You may have,” the Galra says. “I don’t believe you, however.”

“Gotcha,” Lance says. He’s not sure how well he’ll hold up under interrogation, but he’s willing to give it a shot. “I guess that means we’re at an impasse.”

“I suppose so,” the Galra says. “Vortak, bring the implements.”

The doors slide open, and another Galra, tall and thin, wheels in a cart. A few thin, sharp rods gleam in the lighting, but Lance is more interested in the cups wired to the machine beeping on the bottom shelf. He suspects he’s about to get electrocuted in some fashion.

“Let's get started, shall we?” The Galra smiles, teeth as sharp as the instruments on the cart, and Lance sighs. There’s dread curling in his belly, and nothing he can do about it.

They dump him back into his cell after what feels like an eternity but is probably more like an hour. He’s shivering, and they’d nicked him up a bit, narrow cuts on the soles of his feet where the skin is thin and sensitive. It’ll mean some extra pain if he has to run when the other pilots come for him. There’s a bowl of water and some kind of mush already on a tray on the floor, and Lance isn’t too proud to stick his face directly in to drink and eat.

The benefit to being mostly homeless is that he doesn’t have a location to point them toward, no specific information except that the Lions were last on this planet. They could have left without him to regroup, though. They have enough pilots.

Eating tires him out more than he expects it to. Or maybe that’s the torture. Whatever the reason, he falls asleep on the floor and wakes up an indeterminate number of hours later when they come back in to get him. He means to struggle, but they don’t give him the chance, and it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

This continues for what could be two days or what could be a week. It’s hard to keep track — the lights in the cell never dims, and when he’s not sleeping or forcing himself to eat, he’s in the interrogation room, repeating all the things he’s already told them.

He’s sleeping again when the lights go out. That alone wakes him — he hasn’t seen darkness since he was last in the vast emptiness of space. Red lights slowly blink on and off in the hallway, and the mechanical whirring of the air filtration system is quiet. Lance flops down onto his back. He should be getting up, trying to figure out if the power outage disabled the lock on the door, but walking will open the thin scabs on the soles of his feet. It’ll hurt, and he’ll leave a trail of blood behind him. He should do it anyway.

He’s working up the energy to stand when the doors open. It’s the Galra commander, Lance still doesn’t know his name, and his grimace turns into a grin, like he thought Lance would be gone already. He wraps a hand around Lance’s forearm, pressing into the bruises that are already there, and hauls him to his feet, dragging him down the hall. Lance was right — his scabs do split under the pressure. Every step stings, slightly tacky with welling blood.

“I knew they’d come to retrieve you,” he says.

“Duh,” Lance says.

The Galra doesn’t like that, and smacks Lance across the face, making his head spin. He loses track of where they’ve gone. The corridors all look the same anyway, and worse in the red halflight. Eventually, they spill out into the loading bay, full of huge Galra ships and small fighters. One of the larger ships is open and ready for boarding, and for the first time Lance realizes they’re trying to take him off planet. Where his friends will probably never find him again.

He starts to struggle then, for real, for the first time since he was jumped days ago. 

“Lance, down!”

He hears Keith’s voice behind him, and he responds without hesitation. He throws himself to the ground, wrenching his arm out of the Galra’s grasp. It hurts, searing, burning pain, but it’s worth it for the sound of the blaster, the way the Galra drops to the ground in front of him, groaning, and then stops moving.

Lance rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. After a moment, Keith’s face swims into view. His eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth pinched. There is nothing on his face except concern.

“How injured are you?”

Lance laughs. “They cut up the soles of my feet pretty good but I can still walk.”

Keith nods, and then picks Lance up like he weighs nothing.

“Whoa, Keith, I said I could walk,” Lance says, but he doesn’t struggle. He doesn’t want to get Keith killed. They’re still in the middle of a Galra base.

“I don’t believe you,” Keith says, gruff. “Shiro is behind me, he can handle it if we run into anyone.”

Right. Great. “Okay, cool,” Lance says. He feels like a damsel, saved from the villain by a knight in shining armor. Keith is so strong.

He looks over Keith’s shoulder, and Shiro is covering the doorway, gun drawn. He glances at Lance, his whole face sagging with relief when their eyes meet. Lance pulls in a shaking breath.

“We’ve got you,” Keith says, like that’s what Lance is scared of.

“I know,” he says. “Thanks.”

Keith laughs, something manic in it. “Why do you always have to get yourself into trouble?”

“I’m not trying to,” Lance says, and then gasps when Keith slams to a quick halt, ducking down behind a console and jostling the arm Lance has avoided thinking about.

“Lance?”

“I’m fine, can we just — let’s get out of here.”

“Working on it,” Keith says. “Shiro is getting the loading door controls. We just have to sit tight until he opens them.”

“Okay,” Lance says. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

Keith snorts. “You’re welcome.”

Lance wakes up, sometime later, in a tent. He wiggles his toes, and isn’t surprised to find the movement restricted by bandages. His arm is splinted, and his head hurts. The tent is Shiro and Keith’s.

He remembers the Lions landing outside the hanger, and remembers being carried up into Red. The pain had gotten pretty bad by then. He’s not sure where they landed, and he has no idea when they set up camp. He guesses they didn’t need his help for that.

“Awake?”

He turns his head, and Keith is sitting at the doorway, his hair in a small tufted ponytail, sharpening the knife he keeps in his boot.

“Mostly,” he says. “Don’t I have my own tent? Pretty sure Hunk and I have been sharing forever.”

Keith shrugs. “We wanted to keep an eye on you.”

“‘We’?”

“Me and Shiro,” Keith says, like it’s obvious. It probably is. Lance feels muddled, still, like his thoughts have to sift down through the muck first to really get to him.

“Do I have a concussion?” Lance asks. “I feel like I might have a concussion, because you’re not making very much sense.”

“I don’t know, you might,” Keith says. “I’m gonna go get Shiro.” Then, like it’s nothing at all, he leans in and kisses Lance on the mouth. It’s quick, chaste, but Lance doesn’t know when that was something they started doing. He feels like he’s slipped sideways into an alternate universe. Before he can ask, Keith stands and slips out of the tent.

Lance hopes it takes him awhile to find Shiro, because he’s not sure he can take any more surprises, but it’s barely ten minutes before Shiro pushes open the tent flap with his shoulder, holding a tray in his hand. There’s a bowl with some kind of soup on it — Lance can tell because it’s steaming, and he can smell meat and spices.

“How’re you feeling?” Shiro asks. His eyebrows are doing that furrowing thing, concerned, and Lance huffs out a laugh.

“Your boyfriend kissed me on the mouth, so I’m confused, mostly. Also, I can’t really feel my arm.”

“Allura blocked the nerve for now,” Shiro says. “Your shoulder was dislocated.”

“And the other thing?”

Shiro shrugs. “He probably wanted to. I didn’t put him up to it, if that’s what you mean.”

“Put him up to it? Why would you do that?”

“Because I’m selfish?” Shiro chuckles, but when he sits, it’s with too much weight. “Obviously, I want both of you. I’m only human.”

“Right, okay,” Lance says, tone more skeptical than he means it to be. It’s not that he doesn’t believe Shiro, he just figures it’ll pass. He’ll settle into his new body. Things will go back to normal.

“I’m not going to get mad at you, because you’re pathetic and injured, but I do kind of want to.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re acting like you know my feelings better than I do? I get that you knew him really well, the other Shiro, but I get to make my own decisions about who I am, and what I want. Okay?” Shiro sighs, and leans back in his chair. Lance doesn’t like the frown etched into his face, how tired he looks. He wonders how long they were waiting for an opportunity to break him out.

“I’m just waiting for everything to go back to the way it was before,” Lance says. “I believe you, but — it’s not the same, you and me, and you and him.” _There is no ‘you and me’_, Lance doesn’t say.

“I won’t hurt you,” Shiro says, paring Lance down to the bone. His voice is strained, now, his hand gripping the knee of his pants too tightly, white-knuckled. “I know you think I will, but that’s the last thing I want.”

“How would you balance that? Him and me, both of us in love with you, how would that work?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro says. “I’ve never tried it before, but I want to. I want to try. Maybe — maybe you’ll find that I’m not who you want, maybe I’m too different from the other Shiro, your Shiro. Maybe it’ll be a ton of complication for nothing, but I’d rather try than let you go.”

The idea that _Lance_ would be the one to pull away, to say no, seems laughable, and something of that must show on Lance’s face, because Shiro shakes his head. “It’s more likely than me waking up one day and realizing I never really wanted you to begin with.”

Lances slumps back down on the bed with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling of the tent. “Maybe,” he says. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay,” Shiro says. “Please eat. We were all worried sick about you.”

Lance naps on and off, and when he next wakes up Allura is sitting with him, frowning at a data pad.

“Hi, Princess.” 

She looks up and smiles. “Hello, Lance. We are all very happy to have you back.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I feel like I’ve been kind of a drag lately, though.”

She frowns again — maybe it’s new slang for her — and then shakes her head. “This is a very stressful time for all of us.”

“That’s charitable,” he says. “Do you think it’s possible to be in love with two people at once?”

“Oh, certainly,” she says. “Altean familial structure often involves more than two romantic partners — or it did, anyway. Romelle would know more about current customs.”

“I probably won’t ask her,” Lance says. “No offense to Romelle.”

“I am sure she would not be offended,” Allura says. “Pidge was able to get word back to Earth. I thought you might not have been informed yet.”

“Oh,” Lance says. “Is everyone — how did they seem?”

“Pidge says they were only able to hear pre-recorded welcoming messages, but she said that the packages you recorded were delivered, at least.”

“I hope that’s good news,” Lance says.

“We are still a ways away,” Allura says. “But your families know you’re alive now. They must.”

“That’s something, anyway.”

They head out the next morning. Lance rides with Hunk, who hovers like an anxious parent until Lance punches him in the arm.

“If you don’t leave me alone I’m jumping into space,” Lance says.

“Well excuse me,” Hunk says. “Maybe if you’d stop getting captured or injured I could stop worrying about you.”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

“If you say so,” Hunk says.

They hop from planet to planet, sleeping where they can find flat ground, occasionally lending a hand to the locals in the form of diplomacy, labor, or technological assistance in exchange for food and lodging. They only run into the Galra once, and it’s just a few scout ships, easily evaded.

Lance thinks about what Shiro said — what he asked. Lance can’t imagine Shiro would suggest it if Keith wasn’t on board, but Lance doesn’t understand why he would be. He shouldn’t be surprised that Keith is so much braver than he is. Keith _kissed_ him. He doesn’t get it.

It takes him too long to work up the courage, but finally clears his throat at breakfast and says, “Can I ride with you today, Keith?”

He’s looking at Keith when he says it, catches Keith’s startled expression, and then glances at Shiro. Shiro is smiling faintly, his mouth tilted up at the corners just enough to be noticeable. It’s a subtle expression, the kind that makes Lance’s chest tight, makes breath catch in his throat. The kind he remembers catching on his Shiro’s face over breakfast, when all of them were together and he could throw a soft, secretive glance Lance’s way. The kind that Lance wants to see all the time, even if he isn’t the one putting it there. Shiro happy.

The rest of the group, meanwhile, has decided between staring at him in surprise — Allura, Hunk, Coran — and pretending he didn’t speak at all — Pidge and Romelle. Lance never claimed to be subtle.

“It’s fine with me,” Shiro says. “Hunk? Want some company?”

“Uh,” Hunk says, looking between Keith and Lance, his eyebrows hidden in his hairline. “Sure, I guess.”

“What, I don’t get a say?” Keith asks, voice dry. When everyone turns to look at him he holds his hands up in surrender. “I was gonna say okay anyway, geez.”

“That’s settled, then,” Lance says. His feet are almost healed, but they still itch, the scabs not quite finished flaking off. His arm is out of the sling but still not up to taking full weight yet. He’s extremely tired of being a punching bag.

They clean up after themselves, carefully dividing up and storing the breakfast leftovers to eat while they’re flying, and then Lance follows Keith up into Red’s mouth.

“You don’t think Red will find it weird? Both of us in here at the same time?”

“I think if something happens, we’ll find somewhere to land and shuffle the passengers around,” Keith says, settling into the pilot’s chair. “So, I don’t know, but you don’t usually ask to sit with me, so I’m going with it.”

“I have some questions.”

“I thought you might.” Keith doesn’t look at Lance, so Lance is free to watch him, see the corners of his mouth tighten.

“It’s not bad,” Lance says.

“Okay,” Keith says. “Go ahead.”

“Uh, why did you kiss me?”

“That’s what you want to know first?” Keith steals a look at Lance, then, and whatever he sees makes him sigh. “I wanted to. I knew it would confuse you but I did it anyway. I just _wanted_ to.”

Lance thinks about how far he and Keith have come since they left Earth — the slow process of learning to trust each other, the tentative friendship. They don’t always see eye to eye, but Lance let go of his jealousies a long time ago.

He can’t not want Shiro. He’s always wanted Shiro. He’s also always known that Keith was the one who got Shiro.

It’s an adjustment to try thinking anything else.

“I guess I didn’t know,” Lance says, eventually. “We’re different now, but I hadn’t gotten that far.”

Keith shrugs. “That’s okay. You don’t have to get anywhere. I was glad we got you back, and happy you were awake. It seemed natural to do. I don’t have any expectations.”

“Two years on a space whale matured you a lot, huh?” Lance says, and it makes Keith laugh, just the way it’s supposed to.

“I guess so. What’s your next question?”

“I know Shiro wouldn’t have asked if I’d consider — the three of us, doing whatever he sees happening, without talking to you first.”

“We’ve talked about it,” Keith says. His voice is wary, like he’s unsure if he’s going to like where this is going.

“Why is it worth it to you? What convinced you?”

Keith laughs. The sound surprises Lance, and he leans back in his seat, fingers clenched against his knees.

“Sorry,” Keith says, turning to Lance with a wry mouth. “It’s just, I suggested it first.”

“Uh,” Lance says. “What?”

“Shiro never would have, not in a million years. He’s too — loyal, I guess. I don’t doubt that he loves me, that we would have been happy together the way things were, but it’s not as if I didn’t notice how he was with you. And then —” Keith shrugs again, the movement jerky. “It turned out you loved him back. Or loved a version of him, had this whole relationship none of us knew about. It didn’t seem fair.”

Lance opens his mouth, trying to protest, but Keith shakes his head. “Look, I know, you’ve said it before — you treated your relationship with the other Shiro as if it had an expiration date, but that doesn’t mean it has to be that way. There are other solutions. Better solutions, maybe, depending on if we screw up too much or what.”

“You really think we’ll manage to work it out?”

“Assuming none of us die before the war is over, yeah, maybe.”

“You’re both so much braver than I am,” Lance says. “I keep thinking about how easily things could go wrong. I’ve always expected them to.”

“You and Shiro both,” Keith says. “Trust me when I say he worries about it. I’m just reckless, and it shows.”

That makes Lance laugh. It’s funny, hearing things from Keith’s perspective. Keith had been alone for so much of his life, before Shiro, maybe it made him brave. Maybe he’s not afraid of losing what he didn’t think he’d have in the first place.

“Hey,” Keith says, after a couple minutes of comfortable silence. “Can I try something?”

“That depends,” Lance says. “What do you want to try?”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Come here for a second.”

Lance hesitates for half a second, but the truth is that he trusts Keith. He doesn’t think Keith would hurt him on purpose. He crosses to the other side of the cockpit, and manages to hold in a gasp when Keith wraps a hand around his wrist and tugs him down.

Keith’s mouth is soft and insistent, different from the chaste kiss he gave Lance in that tent all those days ago. His hand comes up to cup the back of Lance’s head, sifting through his hair, and Lance shivers. He scrapes his teeth over Keith’s bottom lip, and Keith makes a quiet noise, surprised. It’s gratifying to hear.

Lance pulls back first and looks down at Keith’s flushed face, his crooked smile.

“Okay?” Keith says. His voice is slightly rough, his expression pleased.

“Yeah,” Lance says. “What was that for?”

“I wanted to see if you’d let me,” Keith says, smile broadening into a grin. Lance hasn’t seen that smile much. He likes it.

He’s scared, still, and maybe he will be scared for a long time, but he wants the things that he wants. Keith is willing to share with him — Keith is willing to do more than that, it seems like. It’s something to think about.

At camp that night, Lance flops down onto the floor of Allura’s tent and stares up at the arched ceiling. One of the mice steps on his face on it’s way to nest in his hair, and eventually Allura leans over him, looking down.

“Everything all right?” She can’t seem to decide if she should be amused or worried.

“Yeah,” Lance says. “I guess it is.”

“That’s good to hear,” Allura says. She sits down cross-legged next to him, and takes one of his hands, cupping it between both of hers. “You seem more centered.”

“I’m still scared of all the same things,” Lance says. “But it seems like it might be worth taking a leap of faith.”

She squeezes his hand, and Lance lets out a huffed breath. He has so many friends who genuinely love him. It’s easy to remember the loneliness, the desperation of those last weeks with Shiro, and wonder if maybe he should have asked for help. He knows that he wasn’t ready to, but now he knows that he could have.

“Thank you, Princess,” he says.

Allura laughs. “Whatever for?”

“For everything,” Lance says. “I’m lucky to have you.”

Lance takes third watch that night. The planet is nearly flat across every continent, though the flora and fauna change depending on the humidity. They’ve stopped for the night on a wide swath of tall grasses that sway in the wind like stalks of wheat. The sky is full of falling stars, and Lance distracts himself with counting them, listening for the mournful sound of the bird-like creatures that live in the system of burrows nearby.

Pidge touches his shoulder when she comes to relieve him. She sits next to him for a moment, and then says, “I just wanted to say, with no ulterior motives other than the obvious, that the light is still on in Shiro and Keith’s tent.”

Lance chokes on his own spit. “What’s the obvious ulterior motive?”

She eyes him, her face only half-visible in the low light. “You have some stuff you’re working through, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Lance says. It’s true enough. “You think I should crash their tent?”

“I don’t know. Just don’t drag it out, okay? I’m pretty sure Shiro isn’t as calm about everything as he makes it seem.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lance says. “Don’t worry.”

“Good,” she says. “We just want you all to be happy.”

“Goodnight, Pidge,” Lance says. He ruffles her hair, and ignores her outraged squawk.

Sure enough, there’s a dim light still on in Shiro and Keith’s tent, visible around the edges of the door flaps. Lance steels himself and then pushes the flap aside, stepping in.

He should probably have called out beforehand — they’re kissing, both fully clothed, but Keith is straddling Shiro’s thighs, his hands on Shiro’s cheeks. They look good together. Perfect.

“Hey,” Lance says. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Keith laughs, pulls out of the kiss and presses his forehead to Shiro’s neck. “You have great timing.”

“I can go,” he offers, but he knows before either of them speak that they’re not going to tell him to. He’s learned that much.

“Come here,” Keith says, instead, and like the last time he asked, Lance goes. He sits gingerly on the edge of their bed, looking at all the places they’re touching. Shiro’s face is red, his hand fisted into the back of Keith’s shirt.

“Um,” Lance says. “I just wanted to tell you that I thought about — what you suggested.” He’s so nervous he feels sick, even though they asked, even though he wants this, and for a long moment he doesn’t think he’ll be able to speak.

“It’s okay,” Shiro says. “Either way, we’ll make it work. Even if you don’t want —”

“I do,” Lance says, in a rush. “I’m so scared that I think I might have a stroke, but I —” He shrugs helplessly. “If you really want me, I guess, um. I guess we can try it. Whatever that means.”

“I do,” Shiro says. “Want you. In case that wasn’t obvious.”

Lance nods. “Good. I’ll uh. Leave you to it.”

Keith snorts, the noise inelegant, and slides out of Shiro’s lap. “No way.”

“Keith,” Shiro starts, and Keith gives him a gentle push.

“No, come on,” Keith says.

“If you want me to stay, I can,” Lance says. It takes every ounce of willpower he has to get the words out, but it’s worth it for Keith’s smug smile, and the way Shiro looks at him, awestruck.

“Please,” Shiro says. His voice cracks, almost unnoticeable, but it makes Lance sit back and wonder just how much Shiro has struggled with this. As much as he has? More? His lips are parted, his eyes wide, and Lance has every part of him memorized.

“I want to kiss you,” Lance says. 

“_Please_,” Shiro says again, and Lance pushes off his shoes, letting them thump to the floor, and pulls his legs up onto the bed so he can knee-walk his way closer to Shiro.

“He was so sure you were gonna want to take it slow,” Keith says.

Lance gets close enough to put his fingers on Shiro’s face, thumb brushing over the scar on his nose, pushing his hair back off of his forehead. “No. I’ve waited long enough, I think.”

Shiro surges up, then, and kisses him. It’s a desperate, messy sort of kiss, the kind that Lance remembers from those evenings when Shiro felt pressed down underneath the weight of his pain, when he needed something else to remind him what living was about.

Lance gasps. The ghosts are still here, of course, the memories he has that no one else does, but it’s not so bad when Shiro’s fingers are stroking the side of his face, reverent. Shiro opens his mouth and lets Lance lick inside, all of this familiar and new at the same time. He wants to crawl on top of Shiro and press him down, show him all of the things Lance remembers about this body.

Next to them, Keith swears underneath his breath.

Lance is panting when he pulls back. “Okay?” he says, looking first at Shiro and then at Keith. Their mouths are both red, Shiro’s from Lance’s mouth, Keith’s from his own teeth.

“Yeah,” Keith says.

“Uh, good,” Shiro says, and then laughs. “I definitely dreamed about that a time or two.”

Lance’s head shoots up. “Really? Like — remembering?”

“No,” Shiro says, shaking his head. “Not exactly, but sometimes — there are certain things that float back, sometimes. Sense memories.”

“I can always tell when he’s dreamt about you,” Keith says, laughing. “He’s always worked up afterward.”

Lance’s face goes hot — he can feel himself blushing, thinking about all the things Shiro could be dreaming about, thinking about Keith _knowing_ about them. “What should — what do you want?”

Shiro shakes his head. “What do _you_ want?”

Lance huffs, because he wants everything — he wants to keep kissing Shiro for hours, he wants Keith to fuck him, he wants to feel how warm they both are, pressed against him. But mostly, if he’s truly honest — “I want to suck you off,” he says.

“Oh,” Shiro says. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks now, too, and Lance just wants to put his mouth there, feel how hot his skin is. He _missed_ this, and he never really thought it was his to have. Now he can. Now he does. “Yeah, yes, that’s — sure.”

“I’ll watch,” Keith says.

“No,” Lance says, before he can stop himself. He licks his lips. “Will you, um. You can fuck my thighs, if you want. While I’m —”

“Lance,” Shiro says, like he’s going to ask if Lance is sure, and Lance _isn’t_ except that they told him to ask for what he wants. He doesn’t look at Keith, instead pressing forward to kiss Shiro on the mouth, and then the neck. He hears Keith exhale behind him, and he’s scared that they’ll think he’s too eager, that he’s taking it too far, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to stop. Not now that they’re finally here.

He scoots down, pushing Shiro’s shirt up enough to kiss his stomach, the flat expanse of it, and sucks a bruise into the birthmark Shiro doesn’t remember having. Shiro’s hips work, and Lance knows that he’s hard. He feels Keith lean over him, pressing his mouth against the back of Lance’s neck, a scrape of teeth, and the relief that washes over Lance is enough to make him shudder.

Lance wants to tease more, but he doesn’t have the patience. He tugs the waistband of Shiro’s pajama pants and briefs down, just far enough to get Shiro’s dick out, and then leans down to get his mouth around the head.

Shiro sucks in an audible breath, his hand landing on the back of Lance’s head, gentle, and then scraping through his hair, touching his cheek, restless.

“Wow,” Keith says. His hands are on Lance’s body, firm pressure, like he knows Lance needs the centering. Lance keeps his mouth sloppy, sinking further down onto Shiro’s dick, and that’s when Keith chooses to tug at Lance’s pants, sliding them down his thighs, exposing him to the warm night air. He kisses the base of Lance’s spine, and Lance has to swallow around Shiro’s dick to keep from choking. It’s a lot. It’s a lot, especially, after having nothing.

“You look so good, Lance,” Shiro says. He’s clearly working hard to keep his hips still, but he arches just a little when Lance sinks all the way down. He’s good at this — he knows he is. The sounds Shiro makes are familiar, soft grunts and moans, little words of encouragement, and his dick feels exactly the same in Lance’s throat. If Keith wasn’t here, biting gently into the curve of his ass, Lance might forget who this is, when he is. He needs Keith here for this, he realizes. He’s grateful.

He pulls off to take a few deep breaths, wrapping his hand around Shiro’s dick and stroking. Shiro’s eyes are half-lidded, looking down at him, his mouth bitten red. Behind Lance, Keith presses his hand between Lance’s thighs, fingers wet with something, lube or vaseline or something similar, and then he tugs a couple of quick strokes over Lance’s dick.

Lance cries out, too loud. Keith presses closer, all along his back. 

“Hey,” he says, and Lance turns just enough to look at him. Keith smiles, crooked, and then kisses him. It’s nothing like Shiro, earlier, not desperate. They haven’t done this enough for it to be familiar, either. It’s Keith, warm and intense and almost innocent. At the same time, Keith presses his dick forward, between Lance’s slicked thighs, and Lance shudders again. 

“You’re okay,” Keith says. “Go on.”

Lance takes his cue. He bends back to Shiro and swallows him down again, careful and insistent. He lets the shallow rocking of Keith’s hips press him closer, guide the pace. He’s okay, being here between them.

He looks up through his eyelashes, finds Shiro staring down at him, his eyes then flicking to Keith, and then back. Like he doesn’t know where to look.

“Shiro, does he feel good?” Keith asks.

“So good,” Shiro says. His fingers trace Lance’s mouth, the shell of his ear, tender.

“Yeah,” Keith says. “You knew he would.”

Keith reaches around to get his hand on Lance’s dick again, stroking in time with his thrusts, with Lance carefully swallowing around Shiro. It feels like they’re in sync, finally, like they’ve finally understood each other. Lance doesn’t realize his eyes are wet until Shiro’s smears a tear away from one corner, catching it before it falls. Even then, he can’t care.

Shiro comes first, warning Lance with a choked out word, but Lance doesn’t mind. He doesn’t pull away, either, just lets Shiro roll his hips as he comes, and swallows.

He pulls back after, pressing his forehead against Shiro’s knee as Keith fucks his thighs and jerks him off. Shiro’s fingers play with his hair, and it’s so tender it’s no wonder Lance is still crying a little. He comes like that, between them, and then there’s Keith left. Keith, who has been so generous.

“Kiss him,” Lance says. His voice is wrecked, and he can see the way Shiro notices, his eyes widening. Still, Shiro leans forward, his hand steady in Lance’s hair, and kisses Keith. Lance can hear it, the wet slide of their mouths, the way Keith gasps into the kiss. He feels it when Keith starts to come, splattering Lance’s thighs. For just a moment, everything stops.

Then Keith flops over onto his back with a loud sigh. Shiro laughs. Lance closes his eyes.

Lance wakes up when Keith starts to wipe the come off of his skin with a damp cloth. Lance isn’t sure where Keith got either the cloth or the water, but he doesn’t care.

“Do you want me to go back to my tent,” he says with his eyes closed. Just in case they do.

“No,” Shiro says. “Go back to sleep.”

In the morning, Lance is wearing a shirt but no pants. Shiro is awake, but Keith is still soundly asleep, his head pillowed on Shiro’s shoulder.

“Good morning,” Shiro says.

“Morning,” Lance says. “We tired him out?”

“He was worried you’d wake up in the middle of the night and freak out,” Shiro says. His smile is fond and gentle and for Keith. It makes Lance ache, but not the same way it might have a month ago.

“There’s still time,” Lance offers.

“Not much,” Shiro says. “The first sun came up an hour ago, and the second is going to start rising any minute now.”

Lance sighs. “Everyone is going to know that we — that I slept here.”

Shiro’s face goes carefully blank. “Do you not want them to?”

That’s hard for Lance to answer outright. “What if we can’t make it work? And they all know?”

“They’re our friends. They’d comfort and support us.” Shiro’s mouth twists. “If you want to go now I can explain to Keith.”

“I —” Lance looks at Keith, the shadows underneath his eyes, his crazy bedhead. “No, I’ll stay. I just wanted to make sure.”

“I’m glad,” Shiro says. He looks relieved.

Lance has no doubts that whatever happens next is going to be hard — having good sex once doesn’t fix all their insecurities — but he thinks he’s ready to do the work. He’s ready to try. That has to count for something.

“When we get home,” he starts, and then lowers his voice as Keith frowns. “I won’t stay behind when Voltron leaves again.”

“I knew we could convince you not to,” Keith says, voice thick with sleep. One of his eyes opens. “I told you, we need you.”

“Even if you have to rescue me from the Galra again?”

“Even then,” Keith says. “Now shush, we can sleep a little longer.”

Lance looks at Shiro, the way that he’s barely keeping himself from laughing. He doesn’t look desperate or in pain. He doesn’t need anything from Lance. He just wants him.

“Lazy,” Lance says, but he figures he can find his pants later. He turns onto his side and closes his eyes. Shiro’s fingers slide over his cheeks, his mouth, and Lance exhales.


End file.
